Ensnared
by demonspitfire
Summary: After an encounter with the judge, Nellie Lovett is smitten with another man, much to Mr. Sweeney Todd's dismay, along with Toby's great displeasure. But who exactly is this new man? Sometimes, you may think you have it good, but it may just cost you your life...
1. The Fight

Chapter 1: The Fight

"Nice to see you, dearie; how 'ave you been keeping?" "Toby! One for the gentlemen!" "Yes, yes, yes−'God, that's good! Knock on wood!'" "Must 'ave been one of them foreigners!" "Toby! Throw the ol' woman out…"

…a Mrs. Eleanor 'Nellie' Lovett would constantly beckon as she worked dreary night after dreary night at her now famous, and not to mention booming, Meat Pie Emporium at 186 Fleet Street. Customers would flock like sheep to be shorn to her shop when the dinner rush began. Luckily for Mrs. Lovett, 'fresh supplies' were always present−there was always some dolt who would waltz up those stairs to Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlour (and then never back down those very same stairs again!).

Yes, she couldn't be happier. Or _could_ she? Mrs. Lovett would often ponder to herself. Sure, she was finally prospering with her business as she always dreamed. She would say that the worst pies in London had metamorphosed into the best ones. Yes, she _should_ be happy or at _least_ content with her life. It was hard times, yet she was flourishing with business above all the rest! Mrs. Mooney, whom Mrs. Lovett considered a rival (although the two had only met on occasion here and there), was now penniless: poor thing! It seemed for Mrs. Lovett that she had no competition. She _should_ be happy. Especially since she was a woman in these times, for God's sake! No mere woman should be making it by like Mrs. Lovett was. All women were expected to be the simple housewife, not an arduous worker like herself. They all had a loving and adoring husband to look after them! And that's when it hit her:

Mrs. Lovett had no such husband, or at least not anymore. Just a languished demon barber that stayed in his shop all day, brooding away on his wrongs about what happened heaven knows how many years ago. He hardly paid a pennies worth of attention to her, unless of course it was because he wanted something or they were scheming about their 'respectable' business.

Oh! How she loved that demon with all her being! She smiled at the thought of Sweeney Todd as she and Toby were cleaning the tables on the outside of the shop. She would do absolutely anything for him (even skin his customers and bake them into pies) in a squeamish hope that he would somehow return her love. However much she desired and wished with all her heart that Mr. Todd would love her back and they could retreat to the seaside, Mrs. Lovett knew deep down that was all just wishful thinking. Sweeney Todd would never forget about his wife and would never forgive that bloody old judge. If only he would stop thinking about his blasted revenge! Good God! His thoughts on revenge and nothing but revenge would just be the end of her one day! Mrs. Lovett's smile turned to a frown at that thought.

"Mum! You're gonna scrape all the paint of the table!"

Mrs. Lovett rapidly focused her attention to the lad that helped her run her shop, Toby, her adoptive son. She hadn't realized it but she started to scrub the table rather profusely whilst amidst all her thoughts about Sweeney Todd.

"Sorry, love," she chuckled a bit.

"Is something the matter, mum?" Toby was worried for Mrs. Lovett. Something seemed to be drawing heavily on her mind that cold, January evening.

"Not a' all, dearie." She looked at Toby, a smile sprawled on her face. Yes, she was lying but she only did so to prevent Toby from his worrying; he seemed to do that an awful lot lately.

* * *

"Look mum! It snowed last night!" Toby yelled, probably waking up nearly half of Fleet Street. He was the first to rise (at precisely 7 o'clock, despite the fact he had once again consumed half a bottle of gin to lull himself to sleep). He had jaunted into the shop to make sure it was clean for Mrs. Lovett when a sea of white foam caught his eyes. He ran merrily to the window and gaped in pure awe. After shutting his mouth and wiping the drool off his chin, Toby ran as fast as his little legs could carry him into Mrs. Lovett's bedroom. He nearly pounced onto her in an attempt to wake her up.

"T-Toby? What's all this shouting for? It snows all the time! Go back to bed, lad!" Mrs. Lovett complained than rolled over away from Toby.

"But it _snowed_!" He was relentless. Why was the snow so damn important to him right now? Mrs. Lovett sat up in her bed to scrutinize the boy. He looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Toby, dear. Why is you making all this fuss ovah some simple snow?" She yawned, ready to fall back asleep.

"Well…you see mum, when I was back with Pirelli…well, 'e didn't let me play in no snow like all the other boys my age got to. I was always kept locked away in the dark! I'm just a bit excited. Ya see, it's like me first snow and I was wondering…would it be alright for me to go play outside in it?" he wearily asked with the plead in his eyes growing ever so wider. Mrs. Lovett couldn't help but smile and felt a twinge of sadness emanating from the boy.

"Of course you can, Toby dear," she ruffled his hair and motioned for him to get a move on.

"But mum, you'll come and play with me, right?"

"Oh Toby, love. It's only seven in the morning."

"Puh-lease!?"

"Oh, alright!" Mrs. Lovett hastily got out of bed and shooed Toby away so she could get dressed.

Toby was waiting for her when she emerged from her bedroom a few minutes later.

Mrs. Lovett sported one of her dresses but also wore a jacket, a black scarf, and some leather gloves (with the fingers still _on_). Toby had his usual work clothes and a jacket on. Then, they were bounding out the door.

"So, what shall we do first, eh?" Mrs. Lovett cheerily said with her hands on her hips, eyeing Toby. The boy had nearly dropped dead from the sight of the freshly fallen snow. He was frozen (and not because it was too cold). She nudged him to bring Toby out of his stupor.

"Umm…I…don't know….what CAN we do?"

"What a silly thing ya is, boy! Come on!" Mrs. Lovett dragged Toby by the arm to the middle of the snow covered street, right in front of her shop, where Mr. Todd's window overlooked.

"What are we gonna do, mum?"

"We are going to build a snowman!" Mrs. Lovett squealed with joy.

"Cool, mum!" And the two began collecting snow and shoveling it in mounds to initiate the process of making a man out of snow. After about an hour, their snowman−or at least what appeared to be one−was ultimately finished!

"Well…that sure is….something," Mrs. Lovett said all the while eyeing their 'masterpiece' in content.

"I think it's brilliant!" Toby said, "Now what?"

"I take it you've never had a snowball fight?"

"You're on, mum!" Toby immediately started scooping up snow into his hands; Mrs. Lovett did the very same. And the fight was on!

Unbeknownst to the loving mother and her adoptive son, someone was watching their crazy antics. But not just any someone, but a certain demon barber: a Mr. Sweeney Todd of Fleet Street. He had awoken to the sound of laughter and frolicking, much to his dismay. Oh well, he needed to get up and begin pacing. He waltzed over to his usual window pane to stare into oblivion. Yes, there sure was no place like London. Oh, and snow. There was lots of snow. Mr. Todd, rather than looking off into the distance, looked down and into the foreground, to where Mrs. Lovett and Toby were engaged in a heated (or frozen?) snowball fight. Mrs. Lovett had the upper hand, probably from being more agile and lighter on her feet than the meddling boy. Sweeney chuckled: Mrs. Lovett had just snowballed Toby square in his face. He then abruptly composed himself after having ridiculously laughed at such a petty thing and resumed his needless staring. He didn't know how long he had starred, but…..

SMACK!

Did that really just happen? _The hell…._

Did Mrs. Lovett just throw a snowball at his window, exactly where Sweeney Todd was standing behind, right where his face would have been if the glass were not there?

"Ya see Toby dear: I told ya I could hit 'im!" Mrs. Lovett casually boasted.

"Cool, mum!"

"Of course, dearie," she nonchalantly said. The two had stopped their fight when Toby had noticed Mr. Todd at his window ("Like usual," Mrs. Lovett sarcastically announced). She bragged that she was able to throw a snowball that high so she used Mr. Todd as a target.

"Let's get inside and warm ya bones," she said taking note of the now shivering (not to mention drenched) Toby.

If only she could see the look now plastered on Mr. Todd's face right then and there….it wasn't a look of pure anger or even joy for that matter. No. He had on a mask of something like "did that really just happen?" Perhaps he was confused. The look on Sweeney Todd's face was merely completely out of character. _What just 'appened?_

* * *

Toby was now snuggled in a woolen blanket on the sofa in Mrs. Lovett's lovely back parlour. She had just handed him a nice tot of the hottest hot chocolate around. Mrs. Lovett was just about to plop down beside the boy when she heard someone calling her name from the shop:

"Mrs. Lovett!" It was Mr. Todd. What the bloody hell did he want? He never came downstairs, especially that early in the morning.

"Mrs. Lovett! Come here!" He demanded, although in a much nicer way than he normally would have.

"Coming!" Well, of course she would beckon if he called; she was Mrs. Lovett and he was Mr. Todd after all.

When she walked into her shop, Mrs. Lovett didn't see him so she figured he was in the outside, garden part of her shop. She opened the door to go outside:

"Wha' is it, love…."

PLOP!

No. That could _not_ have happened. No. Mr. Todd did _not_ really just throw a snowball at Mrs. Lovett's face. That's absurd! No one in their right mind could have seen that coming, especially the baker. Her face nearly matched the one Mr. Todd donned nearly five minutes ago. All of this was merely priceless (not to mention unpredictable).

"I believe you will know exactly what that was for, Mrs. Lovett. And now that I have had my…_revenge_…" he pivoted on his heals to head back up to his shop. He was nearly halfway up the stairs when:

SMACK!

Again? That blasted woman!

"Well, I guess _you_ could say tha' was _me_ revenge for you getting _your_ revenge!" She puffed out, all the while grinning rather ridiculously.

Mr. Todd slowly turned back around to look down at the baker. He knew _exactly_ where this was going…but for some bizarre reason, he didn't stop himself from the rather childish act…

He scooped some snow off the railing, in both his hands, clamped them together to form a profusely large snowball, all the while waltzing down the stairs towards Mrs. Lovett. He also bore a grin that was much too silly for a man such as himself. However, it was a grin of pure devilishness: he was going to rather enjoy throwing that snowball at her. He quickened his pace…

But Mrs. Lovett had already turned around and bolted down Fleet Street…

She was running out of breathe, more from laughing at the fact that Sweeney Todd _was_ _actually_ _provoking_ a snowball fight with her than anything else.

She ran down the street until she noticed an alley in her peripheral vision. She instantly darted into it and waited. She waited knowing that soon Mr. Todd would be running down that very same street ready to pelt her with that snowball. Mr. Todd would keep running forward _thinking_ Mrs. Lovett was still jaunting up ahead. Then, she would emerge from her hiding place and hit him instead from the behind. She started on making the snowball. Mr. Todd would be there…just…about…now:

PLOP!

Mrs. Lovett couldn't believe it. She did not actually hit _her_ target, Mr. Sweeney Todd. No. She did not in the slightest.

_He_ hit _her_.

"Now now, Mrs. Lovett, you didn't actually think I was dimwitted enough to fall for that one, my dear?" Mr. Todd mockingly said. He was right behind Mrs. Lovett. Apparently he had indeed seen her turn the corner into the alley but decided to sneak up on her from behind. _Bloody man_….

"Don't patronize me, Mr. T."

"And why not?" He grinned coyly at her, stepping closer.

"Because, as I recall, you are now out of ammo…"

Mrs. Lovett catapulted the snowball out of her arm and….

SMACK!

…right into Mr. Todd's smug face!

And Mrs. Lovett began the game of Cat and Mouse once again!

This time, Mrs. Lovett thought to herself, she would get him for sure. She kept running down Fleet Street eventually making her way to St. Dunstan's Square. But she hardly noticed as she grazed past dreary Londoners (the very same that she would probably bake into her meat pies one day soon) and the various kiosks. She also never once turned around to see if Mr. Todd was still hot on her trail. No. In truth, she was actually a bit frightened to turn. Perhaps it was the simple adrenaline rush from trying to outwit her "attacker" while running through the busting London streets, or because he was simply the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. She hadn't the foggiest idea and quite frankly, she was too in a daze to even think about it.

Mr. Todd, on the other hand, was indeed "hot on her trail." From the moment Mrs. Lovett had bolted off yet again, he took off as well. Unfortunately, he did have to painfully admit to himself that Mrs. Lovett was indeed much faster than him. She was soon much ahead of him in the bustling market where Pirelli's stand had been those couple of months ago. He stopped right as he was about to venture further into the square.

No. She was much too quick for him and also maneuvered much more easily than he did through the crowd. _I wonder what all these fools must be thinking seeing a grown man chasing a grown woman through the streets_…._they probably think I am hunting her down or something_. Sweeney chuckled to himself at that thought. Even though that _is_ what it appeared he was doing, he _highly_ doubted any vermin in these once familiar streets would do anything to help the apparently "in-danger" woman. Oh well. He had another way to get back at Mrs. Lovett…

Sweeney rounded a corner that lead to another street. That street in turn lead to another corner, which lead to another street and so on, until finally he was exactly where he wanted to be.

It was a sort of short cut that led to the other side of St. Dunstan's. Mrs. Lovett would surely be arriving at any moment now:

"AHHHHH!" A high pitched shrill emanated though his ears.

It emanated from a Mrs. Eleanor Lovett who just so happened to be struggling to escape from Mr. Todd's grasp. Yes. He had indeed pounced on her from the shadows.

"Mr. T!" She was relieved it was only him who now had her in a firm hold, with his arms wrapped securely around her waist. However, she was mad that he seemed to be winning this little charade of their. "Let me go! That's cheatin'!"

"No it ain't. I believe "cheatin'" would be…running away shall we say, yes?" He whispered in her ear, mocking her yet again. She tensed as his breathe hit her neck. It was a tension of pure delight, however. Mrs. Lovett turned to look Mr. Todd right in the face, eyes locking in an intense gaze.

"Fine," she muttered very much like a child ruefully accepting her punishment. "You win."

"Not _yet_, Mrs. Lovett. The fight has yet to begun."

"_Yet to begun?"_ Did she hear him right? So all the running was meaningless? The snowball fight hadn't actually commenced yet? A voice broke her train of thought:

"Come now, pet. Start making, as you put it, "ammo." We'll wage war right here!" He let her go. Never before had Mrs. Lovett seen Mr. Todd like this; maybe she had seen Benjamin Barker like so, but that man was dead now. Mr. Todd just seemed so…_lively_…and not to mention _happy_, if that were even possible or plausible.

Although the odd couple had not the slightest idea as to where they were (other than London of course) at present, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd actually stood in Hyde Park. It was covered head to toe, from the tallest tree to the smallest shrub, from the hilliest of hills to the smoothest of leveled ground, in white, translucent snow.

"You're on."

The two immediately began their childish game of a childish snowball fight (well, childish for Todd but seemingly normal for Lovett).

SMACK!

PLOP!

SMACK!

PLOP!

SMACK!

SMACK!

Snowballs flew from left to right, right to left. Almost nearly all of them hit their target, whether that being Mrs. Lovett or Mr. Todd. It was almost another one of their villainous dances as they treaded through the snowy park, twirling in an attempt to dodge a snowball, although not a single dodge seemed successful.

PLOP!

PLOP!

PLOP!

PLOP!

PLOP!

PLOP!

"ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT! I give up, Mr. T! You win!"

Mrs. Lovett was now drenched from head to foot in snow, her hair had long ago fallen from her pins. Mr. Todd appeared to have quite the aim and throwing arm. He was only about half as soaked as she was, standing a good twenty feet to the left of where she stood now. Yet he started to walk towards her, still with snow in both his hands. He was grinning that grin again.

"Now Mr. T, we mustn't act too 'asty or rash, I said you was the winner fair and square, no need for more snow in me face," Mrs. Lovett half-heartedly joked slowly backing up to avoid the inevitable snow Mr. Todd was going to throw one last time at her.

Mr. Todd took longer strides towards Mrs. Lovett and was almost face to face with her, his arms slowly rising from his sides, inching ever so closer to her. He was just about the lather the snow across her cheeks like he would sometimes do to his customers when, all of a sudden, he lost hold of his footing and stumbled.

Yes. Sweeney Todd tripped right then and there and stumbled into Mrs. Lovett. This caused the two to fall down the hill in Hyde Park, cascading down it intertwined with one another until finally they reached the smooth, flat surface of the terrain.

They lay on their backs in the cold snow with their arms sprawled out as if they were about to make snow angels. Mr. Todd was the first to get to his knees. He looked over at Mrs. Lovett who still lay there, with her eyes closed and a frown on her face, her lips appearing to turn a purplish-blue at that very moment probably from frostbite since she no longer wore her coat or gloves for that matter. Sweeney felt a rush of…well…something…come over him…what was it?

Worry. Sweeney Todd felt worry. Not just any worry, but worry for a certain baker two feet away from him.

He crawled over to Mrs. Lovett and hovered his head just above her face, looking down at her with worry written on his face. Unbeknownst to him, his lips too were bitten with that purplish-blue frost. Her eyes then fluttered open:

"Mr. T., I said you won. No need to push me ovah the hill and inta the snow, love."

He just continued looking down at her. For once, his eyes weren't filled with the lust for revenge. No. Just concern for the now weary baker.

"I…I tripped. I didn't push you."

"Sure ya didn't, dearie," she closed her eyes again.

The next thing Mrs. Lovett could even register, she was being hoisted up out of the snow by two very firm arms that belonged to none other than Sweeney Todd.

"I win, though," he smirked as he started to carry her back up the hill, back through St. Dunstan's Square, back down Fleet Street, and back into her lovely back parlour where Toby slept nestled cozily in the woolen blanket on the sofa.

For once in her life, Nellie Lovett was silent. Silent as the grave (or in the case of this story, the pies she made that symbolized graves) as Mr. Todd placed her gently on her favourite armchair.

The next thing she knew, Mrs. Lovett saw Mr. Todd unravel the blanket Toby had from underneath the boy and draped it over her.

"Mr. Todd!"

"What?"

"That was Toby's! Poor thing is probably freezin' now all thanks to you!" She sneered at his lack of compassion for the boy. However, that frown soon turned upside down at Mr. Todd's next remark:

"I like you better than him."

And he walked off, probably back to his barber shop to continue his useless plotting and start his brooding all over again.

But for an instant Nellie thought she heard some compassion in his voice…compassion for her….well, excusing the way he said it of course. Maybe, just maybe, Sweeney Todd loved her, Nellie hoped with all her heart. He said he _liked_ her at least, again, forgetting how he said it. He was after all _implying_ that he _liked_ her. Maybe, just maybe…and Nellie drifted off to sleep, once again mesmerized by her fantasies of her and her Mr. T.

Meanwhile….

…the only thing that Mr. T. was thinking about was one simple question:

_Did I really just have a snowball fight with Mrs. Lovett?_


	2. Close Calls

Chapter 2: Close Calls

Dawn. More like the crack of dawn to be more precise: that's when Mr. Sweeney Todd rose from his barber chair from a dreary (and not to mention weary) slumber. Yes, the nightmares had come and gone in his sleep; nightmares of the day Benjamin Barker was taken away on a trumped up charge to bloody Australia or wherever, to never see his beloved wife and daughter again. Why did they haunt him so? He constantly tried to forget, but the more he tried the more he never seemed to let the past go. Perhaps by silencing that damnable Judge Turpin the barber would finally forget and move on or something of those sorts. Just perhaps…

He was at his window pane again. If he wasn't "justifying" or "practicing on less honorable throats," Mr. Todd would stare out into oblivion, gazing out into the endless smog of what appeared to be the once promising London. No more. No more would Sweeney Todd think of how wonderful London was; no more would he think of it as a place full of wonders: no more. It was just some hole in the world like a great black pit where the vermin in the world inhabited…

But what did Mr. Todd think about during his brooding?

It varied of course. His "favourite" topics of brooding were remembering (or at least trying) his wife Lucy and their gorgeous daughter Johanna…but, the memories always seemed to fade away once he had gotten hold of them….just like the naïve Benjamin Barker. Once he had what he wanted, the cruel and pious London always took it away! Damn them! Curse them! The judge and the beadle! How he would make them shake in their boots! He would get them!

That, in turn, led to his other topic, the most important topic of all: Revenge. Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford were dead men in Mr. Todd's eyes. If only he could get one of them into his shop again he would soon get both! But no matter what clever scheme Mr. Todd devised in his head about getting those two…_vermin_…into his shop, Mr. Todd knew it was just wishful thinking. They would never come…

And as that topic would slowly drizzle from his weary mind, Mr. Todd would sometimes, only sometimes, think of his landlady, Mrs. Lovett. What was she to him? Or even him to her for that matter? No matter how hard he thought on this topic, he could never quite place his….what were they…stirrings? Damn, alright…his feelings for Mrs. Lovett. He didn't know what he felt for or even about her. She was his friend−his only friend (other than his razors of course). A couple of weeks ago he _did_ frolic around with her in the snow…and he _had_ _enjoyed_ himself fooling around with her. He even went as far as worrying for her after he "pushed" her down the hill, as she claimed he did. Enjoyment? Concern? Those were the "feelings" he had for Mrs. Lovett: the simple feelings one has for a friend.

But was she just a friend, landlady, and accomplice to him? She took care of him she did, and he never even asked her to…not once. In fact, she was the one to suggest the use of human meat and their horrendous plot. And she did it all for Sweeney Todd. For him. Only for him.

What would he do without her?

Nothing. That's what. He would probably cease to exist without _his_ Mrs. Lovett. A small smile spread onto Mr. Todd's face as he continued to look out his window pane. She was everything to him and he could sense (as if by some force) that he was everything to her, too.

He would keep her happy, that's what he would do. And safe. Most importantly, Mr. Todd would keep his Mrs. Lovett safe.

Happiness and Protection? No. That wasn't being friend-like at all. No. What was it then that he was feeling? Was she his _best_ friend? No, that seemed to simple. But then _what_ exactly was she to him?

Mr. Todd kept that thought, pestering away at the inside of his brain, for ages. For so long in fact, that Mr. Todd appeared to have lost track of the time…

It was now probably near noon: Mrs. Lovett's lunch rush.

He had moseyed over to the window that overlooked the garden part of the shop, just beneath his stairs: and he never once averted his gaze from the bustling pie shop below…

Work that's all she ever seemed to be doing nowadays, Mrs. Lovett thought to herself as she carted trays of her ambrosial-smelling meat pies to her customers. Oh well, she was doing it for _him_ anyway.

"More hot pies!"

"Toby! Ale there!"

"Right mum!"

"Quick now!"

"God, that's good!" Her loyal customers would always exclaim once they tasted (either for the first time or even for the second and so on) Mrs. Lovett's meat pies.

"Mrs. Lovett."

Hot breathe, that's what she felt on her exposed neck as some unknown voice whispered her name. She abruptly pivoted to face the voice.

He was a man probably in his late forties. His greying hair stood about two feet above Mrs. Lovett as the large man's eyes flicked down her dress.

"I…*hiccup*…rea-rea-really like y-y-yer…*hiccup*…piesssss," he slurred as put his hands to rest on Mrs. Lovett's shoulders. She winced under his touch but simply brushed it off knowing that the man simply had too much ale and she could just quickly back away and the drunkard would probably stumble onto the floor. Besides, she knew this man was just one of her loyal customers: he would never hurt her (or do anything else for that matter), he was just awkwardly thanking her due to too much alcohol consumption.

But before she could mumble a word of false "thanks," the man was swiftly spun around.

He was no longer facing the ever-so-cheerful Mrs. Lovett but the stoic and incredulously irate Mr. Sweeney Todd.

"Sir, I think you could use a shave, consider it on the house," Mr. Todd told the drunkard, all the while averting his eyes from Mrs. Lovett's.

"Th-th-that….*hiccup*…would be…lovely!" The man smiled at Mr. Todd, ready to start being led up the stairs when they heard a shrill:

"NO!"

Mr. Todd spun around to face Mrs. Lovett, who obviously had produced said shrill.

"Wot?"

"You will NOT give that man a free 'shave'." She was staring intently at Mr. Todd, her hand in her hips.

"And why not?"

"W-what…*hiccup*…did I do w-wrong?"

"Nothing sir. But I'm afraid I can't let ya walk up those stairs in yer condition. Toby! Get some more ale fer the gentlemen."

"Th-thanks a-a-a million, love." Mr. Todd had cringed when the man called _his_ Mrs. Lovett _love_. No. That was his term of endearment for her! Mrs. Lovett tore him from his thoughts:

"Wot the bloody 'ell was that about, Mr. T?!"

He stared blankly at her.

"I-I thought you needed some help," he defended.

"Oh please, love, I can 'andle meself."

"No you can't."

"Wot was that?"

Mr. Todd looked into her eyes even more deeply now.

"That man was going to hurt you. Perhaps do even more than you even realize," he stated.

"Mr. Todd. I am completely fine. I 'ave been living alone fer seventeen years and I know 'ow ta defend meself from men like that!" She spat. She couldn't believe him! How dare he assume she was weak and petty like….like his wife! Sure, she had longed for him to show any signs of interest in her, he just seemed to be acting so…so like a husband! It was a feeling she had long forgotten. The feeling of being subjugated to someone else; being nothing more than the simple housewife, not being able to anything really; and Eleanor Lovett had grown accustomed to living life on her own accord.

"I saw that look in his eyes. It would have been the very same look Judge Turpin had probably given to my Lucy," Mr. Todd stated quietly.

Mrs. Lovett looked into Mr. Todd's eyes now.

"I know where yer goin' with this, dear. But I am fine. And you can't just go…." She stopped herself from continuing. Mrs. Lovett grabbed Mr. Todd by the arm and quickly dragged him into her shop. Seeing that even the inside was littered with her seemingly endless customers, she pulled herself and Mr. Todd into her cupboard closet at the back her hall near the parlour. This way, no customers could hear what they two would likely be arguing about.

The two were clouded in the dark: they could not even see each other. Mrs. Lovett only became aware of just how close they were when Mr. Todd's hot breathe hit her face:

"Ya can't jus' go killin' off any man like the drunk or even like the judge."

Mr. Todd instantly pushed her back against the wall of the closet.

"Yes I can!" He yelled.

"Shh!"

"No! If any man does _anything_ like that to you I have every right to kill him." He was breathing heavily; his staggered breathes hitting Mrs. Lovett's face…or lips to be more precise.

Only just becoming aware of their even closer proximity, Mrs. Lovett heard a familiar voice shout her name:

"Mrs. Lovett! Mum! Where is ya?"

It was Toby. What did he want?

"Mum! The customers are truly getting unruly! We need more pies!"

"Nellie…"

Mrs. Lovett was brought back to her current predicament (not that she would call it that with Mr. Todd being so close).

"Sweeney…" she slightly mocked his own voice.

"I will kill them, you know."

"You will not! We agreed ta only pick and choose those that wouldn't be missed! Ya know that. If ya start killing any man that so much as glances at me, the constables will surely come a knocking."

"Mum!"

She felt the breath on her lips again…if anything, the breath was closer than before.

"Alright." She had finally convinced him. What a stubborn man he was! Oh well, she did love him after all. She was absolutely sure Mr. Todd was about to press his lips to her…and if not, she would have tilted her head up to do it herself. The kiss would surely have happened if not for that voice that kept being heard:

"Fine! I'll just 'ave ta go down to the bake house and get the pies meself."

And that was all it took for Mrs. Lovett to burst out of the closet, leaving a rather smug Mr. Todd behind. She immediately ran in front of Toby, bustling down the stairs to prevent him from going in the bake house.

"That's quite alright, dearie. I'll do it meself. Be a good lad and go see to the customers."

"Okay, mum."

Mr. Todd had stealthily emerged from the cupboard and waltzed back up to his shop. But before he went upstairs, he spotted that drunkard.

"Sir! I do believe we have a shave to get to," he said merrily and grabbed the drunk man; they both scurried up the stairs and into Mr. Todd's parlour…

Meanwhile…

Mrs. Lovett was setting more of her pies onto some trays. Just as she was about to unlock the bake house door to leave, she heard a click and then a loud…

CRUNCH!

She instantly turned around to see the corpse of the drunkard on her bake house floor.

"Damnit Mr. Todd! What the bloody 'ell did I just say?!"


	3. Albert Lovett

Chapter 3: Albert Lovett

Currently, the year was 1847, the beginning of the Victoria era. The place was London, England. But to be more precise, it was a cloudy−well that's redundant…London always seems cloudy or at least smoggy during this Industrial age−February evening on the street of Fleet, at the address of 186, at Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium.

It was also a Sunday, meaning that shops all around were closed, as were Mrs. Lovett's and Mr. Todd's.

Instead of her usual working, Mrs. Lovett found herself pondering this evening. She sat at one of the booths outside, with her hand propping her chin up, gazing out across Fleet Street aimlessly. She was thinking of course about her tenant and murderous accomplice, Mr. Todd.

_What's 'e doin' right now? Can't 'e spare me a single ounce of attention just a few times? Can 'e even formulate a complete sentence? Why can't I be his damn Lucy? _"Ugghhh!"

Mrs. Lovett sighed as she closed her eyes. Sure, she and Mr. Todd _did_ have a marvelous snowball fight….but that was a full month ago now! They hadn't fooled around since then. And sure, she did manage to get locked in a closet with her love little less than a week ago, and he _had_ displayed signs of jealousy when he killed that drunkard (after which she had a lengthy talk to him…again…about whom he was allowed to kill and not kill…an argument he finally gave into…but probably only to get her to shut up about the whole thing); but nevertheless, Mr. Todd was back to his old idiosyncrasies…barely saying a single word to her.

A deathly cold gust of wind just blew over London: Mrs. Lovett deemed that it was now time to go in for the night. She got up and took one final glance at Mr. Todd's shop. She could have sworn she saw a shadow in the window but merely brushed it off and waltzed inside her shop.

Good gracious! It was warm in there! Well, that would be due to the constant baking and boiling of human flesh down in the bake house! Every night it would be going, keeping 186 nice and toasty.

Mrs. Lovett, however, kept walking towards her parlour. It was still too early to go to bed so she plopped herself on her favourite armchair and began reading one of her novels.

Toby was there, too. But the poor thing had already drunk himself to sleep on the sofa. Mrs. Lovett looked towards the boy: _We either need ta stock up on some more gin or cure that boy of 'is addiction…oh well, Mr. Todd drinks gin, too_.

Eventually, after reading the newest romance novel about a young governess falling in love with her master and what not, Mrs. Lovett drifted off in a blissful slumber.

And then it wasn't long after she fell asleep that a Mr. Todd came jaunting in. He looked _exhausted_ from his brooding/plotting.

His eyes darted all about the room: from Toby sleeping on the sofa, to some scattered chairs that did not look at all that comfortable to him, to finally Mrs. Lovett sleeping on the armchair…._his_ armchair.

He frowned immensely. Where was he to sleep tonight?

Yes. Mr. Sweeney Todd slept in the parlour…but only sometimes. Some of the time, Mr. Todd would sleep in his barber chair (although he'd prefer not to just in case the lever was accidently pushed, causing him to fall head first through the chute into the bake house) or rarely, on the cold floor in his shop. Those two weren't that appealing to him; nor were they comfortable. This caused him to venture downstairs, to the warmth of Mrs. Lovett's parlour. The fireplace was always lively with fire, which was much better than his fireless, dreary shop. Of course, he would have to share it with the insufferable Toby; but the boy was always sound asleep when Mr. Todd came in and still asleep by the time Mr. Todd had left. Toby had the sofa always, and Mr. Todd would have the armchair always…or at least until tonight.

Mrs. Lovett was the obstacle for Mr. Todd to get some much desired sleep.

What should he do?

He could always carry her to her room; but that might wake her up and cause her to start up her unnecessary chatter. That was best avoided.

So, the only "sensible" thing for Mr. Todd to do was sleep in Mrs. Lovett's bed.

Well, she did take _his_ bed so the least he can do was to take _hers_.

Of course, he would have to make absolute sure he was gone before she woke up to avoid any questions. But sleep to him was just so damn appealing.

With that, Mr. Todd waltzed into her room and plopped himself on her bed, quickly drifting off to sleep.

_Damn, it was comfy_.

* * *

"EEEEEKKKK!"

A scream−a shrill, high-pitch, damn right annoying scream: that's what awoke Mr. Todd at nearly four in the bloody morning.

Unbeknownst to him of course, _she_ _actually came to bed_ shortly after he decided to camp out in there that night…

All seemed perfectly normal to Mrs. Lovett. She woke when she heard a door slam shut. Brushing it off as just one of those kinks to a house, like when the floorboards creak even though no one is walking over them, she got up and headed to bed.

She changed into her nightgown per usual: it was just another Sunday night after all. Mrs. Lovett scooted into bed and pulled the covers over her. All was well as she fell back asleep.

But all was in fact not well at four in the morning, about three hours later…

Apparently, and it is normal for people to stir in their sleep, Mrs. Lovett rolled over to the right side of her bed. Why wouldn't she? She was the only one in her bed and she was accustomed to taking up nearly the entirety of it since Albert passed away. She felt warmth emanating from the right side, but paid no heed for she was asleep after all.

It wasn't until nearly a minute after she rolled over that an unknown (well, unknown to her) being did the same and in fact, said being named Mr. Sweeney Todd draped an arm around her waist out of reflex.

And that's all it took for Eleanor Lovett to scream herself awake…

"EEEEEKKKK!"

Mr. Todd bolted upright, withdrawing his arm, and actually shrieked a bit himself, too (but just barely, more like a high pitched grunt).

"Mr. T! Wha' the bleeding, blooming 'ell are you doin' 'ere?!" she shouted.

He just stared at her, not believing the moment he was trying to avoid was actually unraveling right before his eyes.

"Well?" she insisted.

"I _was_ trying to sleep."

"In _my_ bed?" Not like she didn't mind, of course. But he nearly scared her off her wits he did!

"Oh just shut it and go to sleep, woman. I'll be gone before you wake again."

All Mr. Todd wanted was sleep…and to be in a nice warm and cozy bed, even if that meant sharing it will Mrs. Lovett. In truth, he actually didn't mind: he'd rather be in the same room as her than as to be in the same room as Toby. And at least she was quite as she slept. Oh God, she didn't talk in her sleep, too, did she? Sleep. That's all he wanted and he was damn right determined to get it.

Mrs. Lovett just gaped in awe as Mr. Todd just plopped himself back on the bed and fell asleep without another word. She didn't mind in the least that he was right there…in her bed…with her right next to him. Too bad they hadn't _done_ anything in the bed.

She dropped to the bed and this time, _purposefully_ inching closer to Mr. Todd, face to face. So close, yet so far. Maybe he would put his arm around her again…just maybe…and Mrs. Lovett fell asleep yet again.

* * *

It was now March the First at around one or two in the morning.

Mr. Todd was once again in Mrs. Lovett's bed. He had deemed it as his _new_ bed as opposed to that now "intolerable" armchair that he previously slept on. And in fact, Mrs. Lovett didn't seem to mind about him sleeping there. In fact, she seemed rather happy about it. If she was happy, than Mr. Todd was fine; he did like to keep his accomplice happy.

However, the primary reason he allowed himself to sleep so close to Mrs. Lovett was solely for the purpose of his revenge. He needed to be in perfect health until his revenge was finished: being in a proper bed was the only way his back would stay in tip-top shape. Sleeping in her bed was _necessary_. And that's what he told her every time he came to bed.

Yet, there was a downside to sleeping with Mrs. Lovett (at least in Mr. Todd's eyes) −and no, she didn't talk in her sleep. The two seemed to end up intertwined with another when they woke in the morning. Sometimes, it was Mrs. Lovett who had awakened first. She would sometimes find Mr. Todd's face submerged in her chest (perhaps undoing her buttons slightly on her nightgown had worked) with his arms around her waist. She would then pretend to be asleep until he woke up to move himself since she couldn't (nor wouldn't) pry him off herself. On the other hand, Mr. Todd would arise first and sometimes found Mrs. Lovett snuggled securely at his side, with her face buried in the crook of his neck, with his arms wrapped around her waist yet again. Mrs. Lovett didn't mind in the slightest, Mr. Todd did…though he never once brought it up with her.

Currently, the two were asleep with Mr. Todd practically on top of Mrs. Lovett, or half of him at the very least. He had his face snuggled close to hers, with his nose lightly brushing her cheek. His right arm was sprawled across her body, along with his right leg. All was normal…as normal for them as could be. Just another night…when Mr. Todd felt Mrs. Lovett begin to stir in her sleep.

Normally, her moving in her sleep would have gone by unnoticed. But she kept shaking and turning from side to side so he had to wake up. He really didn't know what was going on so he merely turned to get off her and continue his slumber praying should would stop soon.

And indeed she finally did...

But only because Mrs. Lovett had sprung out of bed, grabbed her coat and boots from a nearby chair, and darted out the room.

Mr. Todd could have sworn he heard a quiet sniffle as she left.

He decided he best find out what was wrong with Mrs. Lovett.

He slipped on his shoes and left the room, not even daring to put his jacket or even his vest on. He'll just have to brave the cold to discover what was causing her strange…er…behavior.

* * *

She was merely walking; just walking through the dark and gloomy streets of London that March First at four thirty in the morning.

Nellie had her arms folded in a pettish attempt at keeping the cool mist off her skin, drawing her coat as close as she possibly could to her petite body. Luckily her hair was down so at least her neck wasn't that cold. And although her coat trenched nearly to her ankles, her legs were still freezing since she had no stockings of any sort on, just her measly boots that barely provided any warmth without said stockings.

But Nellie didn't care, and in fact, could not even register the cold at that precise moment.

No.

All she was thinking about was a certain man…

Nellie now stood at the pier, overlooking the river Thames. She appeared to be lost in deep thought, possibly making a connection or memory to the certain man and the Thames. She rubbed a tear from her eye and then walked away from the pier and once again into to filthy streets that were London.

But unbeknown to her, Nellie was being followed.

Don't worry, it was just Sweeney Todd, wandering after her and wondering what the blazes she was doing talking a walk at this hour!

He was taking strides through the various alleys as he followed Mrs. Lovett, much like the time he chased her during their childish snowball fight. But this time, he wouldn't jump her.

Nellie just kept walking with her head down. Fortunately, other than Mr. Todd and herself, the streets were empty so she needn't mind not pay attention to her surroundings as she continued her endless and not to mention aimless walk.

She was in St. Dunstan's now, still not paying heed to where she trotted. Actually, she was just about to stumble over a barrel when she heard a voice call her name, breaking her from her trance:

"Mrs. Lovett!"

It was Mr. Todd! Nellie spun around at the last second before she would have plummeted to the ground and now faced her tenant.

"Mr. Todd," she said dryly, not actually believing he had followed her out there, or even communicating with her.

"What are you doing?" he asked blankly.

"Obviously takin' a little stroll, dearie," she attempted to joke but ended up just sniffling through it. She rubbed her eyes again.

"Why?"

"Pish…not like you _care_ anyway," she attacked, biting back tears.

"I _care_ _enough_ to follow you out here in the bloody dark, Mrs. Lovett," he spat back.

"Jus' go back to bed, Mr. Todd!" Nellie spun back around to march off when she stumbled over the barrel, smacking face down in the cold, hard ground.

Mr. Todd, fighting back a burst of the giggles, ran to help Mrs. Lovett up. He knelt down and put an arm on her back and heaved her into a sitting position. She sat on her knees, caressing her forehead with one hand while having her palm of the other hand on the ground. She sighed and sniffled again.

"What's wrong, Nellie?"

His voice was different this time around…maybe he did care.

"Nothing."

She looked away from him with tears threatening to break through her lashes. She then felt a hand moving her face. Now, she had to look at him.

"You're crying."

"Thank ya..again…for pointin' out the obvious, Mr. T!" Nellie got up, brushing of her coat. Mr. Todd did as well, never once tearing away from looking at her. "If ya don't mind, I would like ta be left all be meself!" She started walking away, this time, carefully avoiding anything that might cause her to trip again.

_Damn woman! I'm just trying to help you!_

The next thing Mrs. Lovett felt was an arm slipping around her waist. She rapidly turned to give Mr. Todd a death glare.

"I thought I jus' said…."

"It's dangerous outside, love."

Her death glare softened.

"Fine."

She may have just had a terrible dream that caused her to venture out into the streets of London for a late night walk and was feeling awfully down and depressed, but right now, Nellie Lovett was actually happy walking with Mr. Todd.

The two didn't say a single word as they continued the walk. Eventually, they had once again found Hyde Park. Mrs. Lovett walked through the gates causing Mr. Todd to follow.

She continued until they just reached the hill they had fallen down in January. Mrs. Lovett stopped just under the only tree that sat on top of the hill.

"Are you going to tell me what's bugging you?"

"If you insist." It appeared that Nellie had greatly calmed down during the walk.

"Ya ain't the only one who lost someone, love…" she looked at Mr. Todd. However, he merely had on his stoic expression as he looked forward; hopefully, he was actually listening.

"Albert?"

"Yes…me poor Albert Lovett."

He turned and looked at her with an almost concerned expression, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"Tell me about him."

"Well, I nevah actually married 'im 'cause I loved 'im. No. But aftah five years o' marriage, I learned ta love 'im in me own way ya see. We was really fond of each othah and best friends. Ya could say it was purely platonic and not romantic. But….even though 'e's gone, I do miss 'im from time to time…" she sniffled again falling to the ground, causing Mr. Todd (who still had his arm around her waist) to fall as well, but practically on top of her, knocking her to the side…

…and the two rolled down the hill once again.

Mrs. Lovett landed, about ten seconds later after some very dizzying somersaults, on top of Mr. Todd, who landed within nine seconds on his back.

"I'd say "sorry" but that was yer fault…again," she teased. Maybe the fall was a good thing since she wasn't almost crying anymore.

Mr. Todd sat up, with Mrs. Lovett still in his lap.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't ya worry about it, love," she dabbed her eyes again but was still smiling. "I think of 'im sometimes, but usually jus' the good things, things that don't make me sad. But I do 'ave dreams about 'im that really take its toll on me."

"Like tonight?"

"Ya. I jus' wanted ta leave the house fer some fresh air and maybe take me mind off things with a walk. I do it wheneva I 'ave a bad dream about Albert. I was fine…until ya came along…" she darted a glance at him.

"Sorry," he nonchalantly said.

"S'aright, dearie. In fact, I feel much better bein' able ta tell someone that," she smiled.

And _he_ smiled! At her! Mrs. Lovett was happy, so Mr. Todd was happy.

"I reckon we ought to get back to sleep. We still have a good hour before the sun arises."

"Alrigh', love."

Mrs. Lovett began to stand up but immediately fell back down into Mr. Todd's lap.

"I see your knees truly are weak," Mr. Todd teased.

"I told ya they were silly man! Why would I lie ta ya?"

"Be quite." With that Mr. Todd scooped her up and began carrying up the hill once again.

"Ya know, you are gonna 'urt yerself carrying me all the time, Mr. T."

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Lovett: you don't weight _that_ much," he mocked.

"Eyy! Wot exactly are ya insinuating, Mr. Todd?" She tried to hit him in the face but he managed to dodge it.

"Can't you just be quiet for once?"

* * *

**Alright...I am actually gonna do Author's Notes here ( I don't usually like to do them but I actually have stuff to say! ^_^ ):**

**So, first off...THANK YOU! dear readers for reading and reviewing my 'fic! Reviewing does let me know people are reading this and actually want more so...continue reviewing...or not T_T.**

**Now, about this 'fic...I really don't have a solid plot line for this story; it is merely like a collection of one-shots embedded with my own analysis of the movie/play and characters that have one theme that will contribute my twist at the end! I have the end already worked out but I wanna try to continue this 'fic as long as I can sooooo...if you have any suggestions or anything you want Todd and Lovett to do (but please don't make me write a sex scene...) that you have always though of but never really written it or anything of those sorts...just review or PM me and I will write a chapter based off your idea (and give you credit!)! So basically, I'm really saying, this 'fic will go on as long as YOU want it to! I have an idea for Ch. 4 already that may or may not spawn a plot but...I also don't like messing with the plot line of Sweeney Todd...I am not sure if that made sense) O_o. **

**Thanks again!**

**Also, I had planned to have this up yesterday, but I fell asleep when writing it...I guess all that talk of beds really put me of me knocker. Hope you enjoyed!**


	4. The Meeting in the Market

Chapter 4: The Meeting in the Market

So, she still reflects on her late husband? Were the two of them really that different? No, they were practically one in the same: two peas in a pod (or rather to bodies in a meat pie). The widower and the widow: the barber and the baker: the murderer and the accomplice: Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett…

It was still March on Fleet Street, just another typical, dreary London day. Customers of both shops had come and gone (either by door or by chute). The day seemed to just lag on and on with no real purpose per usual. And as usual, Mrs. Lovett closed up shop just after the lunch rush (around 2 o'clock). It was time for her and Toby to head to St. Dunstan's to visit the grocer, browse the kiosks, and perhaps even buy some knick-knacks and what-not, as usual.

And yet again, as usual, Mr. Todd merely thought about his "bloody" revenge, pun intended. He saw Mrs. Lovett and the boy scurry down Fleet Street and round a corner out of his sight. He knew not of where they were headed, but nor did he care for that matter. He continued to brandish one of his razors in hopes that a victim…er…customer would jaunt into his shop soon.

DING.

And fortunately for Mr. Todd, his wish came true. Thus, he began "shaving" his "customer." Or rather working, as he called it.

Mr. Todd knew not of how long Mrs. Lovett and that meddling boy-thing were out (or even if they had already come back). He knew not of just how long time had elapsed. Or even how many lucky and unlucky souls departed his shop as of now. That's what it was always like for him: not knowing the time, the day, the month, or even the year. His revenge kept him immensely busy so time-keeping was not a necessity. Mr. Todd only knew time when Mrs. Lovett brought him his meals, and even then, he really didn't care to know the time: he just so happened to know.

* * *

A DING, followed by a SLAM was then heard…

Mr. Todd spun around from where he stood, feigning a cheery grin, to greet his next customer. But what Mr. Todd did not see was anyone at all in his shop. No. Instead, he was nearly assaulted as he felt someone wrap their arms around him and nuzzled their face in his chest.

Taken aback, Mr. Todd only realized who it was when he felt curly hair brush against his chin. He looked down and saw Mrs. Lovett−she seemed rather disheveled, not to mention attempting and failing to bat away tears, and a good thing that it was merely the baker, for he was just about to razor whoever the hell it was.

Confused as Mr. Todd could possibly be at that precise moment, he reluctantly put his arms around her. What the ruddy hell was wrong with her? She is acting totally bonkers, bursting into his shop at that hour, and thrusting herself into his arms! How dare she! Those were something along the lines in Mr. Todd's precarious mind. But no, something was wrong. Something had caused Mrs. Lovett's capricious and irrational behavior. But whatever could have set her over the edge?

"What's wrong, Mrs. Lovett?" He apathetically asked. Unfortunately for Mr. Todd, however, Mrs. Lovett just broke out into fretful sobs. She tightened her grip and attempted to bury her face even deeper into the crook of Mr. Todd's neck. Something was really wrong is she was passing up an attempt at conversation with Sweeney Todd, _especially_ when he was initiating the conversation himself.

"Mrs. Lovett, answer me," he said, well, more of demanded. But she didn't comply; rather, Mrs. Lovett just sobbed even more.

Realizing he wasn't about to get anything more than a sob out of her, Mr. Todd just stood there with Mrs. Lovett in his arms, stroking her hair in a vain attempt at trying to calm her ludicrous cries. It seemed to be working when another DING was heard and in waltzed the boy:

"Mrs. Lovett, ma'am!" Toby said as he jaunted into Mr. Todd's shop. He eyed the man in complete and utter abhorrence noting that Mrs. Lovett was in Mr. Todd's arms, causing Toby to boil with even more animosity for the man. But before that anger could erupt from Toby:

"Tobias."

"Todd."

Sweeney Todd also gazed down upon the insufferable boy, with hostility aching his very core. He did not exactly know why, but Mr. Todd took an instant dislike to Tobias Ragg the moment he had agreed with Mrs. Lovett wanting to "keep" him. Toby had instantly returned the gesture then, too. At the moment, though, Mr. Todd only wanted to know one thing (not to mention getting the boy out of his hair as soon as he could):

"What happened to Mrs. Lovett?" He gasped as Mrs. Lovett tightened her death grip.

"I-I'm n-not sure…" he stuttered, averting his gaze from Mr. Todd's eyes.

"Speak up, boy."

"Well, we was in the market just now. Mrs. Lovett and me was jus' browsin' through the many o' stands when these two men approached us. One o' them asked if 'e could speak to Mrs. Lovett privately, you know, away from me I reckon since I'm jus' a boy and all. So, Mrs. Lovett shooed for me to go on my way so as she could talk to the man," Toby finished.

"And?" Mr. Todd was very curious now. Why had these men put Mrs. Lovett in such a state of disarray? She just said last month that no man posed any threat to her.

"Well, I don't know who the man that wanted to talk to 'er was. But, I do believe the other was the Beadle."

"What?" Mr. Todd's brows knitted whilst his eye twitched. Toby took note of the searing anger rising through Mr. Todd's face.

"Yeah: the Beadle Bamford. But don't worry, Mr. Todd! I kept a close watch on them, I did! I swear my life on it!" Well, hopefully his life wasn't in any danger with Sweeney Todd around.

"What happened?" More stoic words that possessed hints of emanate anger.

"Nothing! They were jus' _talking_!" Toby was adamant, but clearly, he told the truth. "And only doin' that fer about a couple o' minutes until their conversation was ovah!"

"Toby…"

Both the boy and Mr. Todd cast their eyes to where the deadly voice emitted from: Mr. Todd's arms.

It was Mrs. Lovett. She turned in Sweeney's arms to look at Toby, her eyes bleary and red from the tears, but also filled with a very un-Mrs. Lovett-like glare: a glare that said _get out_, a glare that was most likely to come from Sweeney Todd and not Eleanor Lovett. Luckily, Mr. Todd seemed to pick up the vibe he got from Mrs. Lovett:

"Toby, go downstairs and keep the shop closed."

"No. I ain't leavin' till Mrs. Lovett comes with me."

"Toby!" Mrs. Lovett practically yelled. He finally got the gist and left Todd's shop, but rather profusely as he trudged down the stairs, making sure that all could hear his booming footsteps.

Nellie finally released her vice grip from Mr. Todd.

"Sorry for troublin' ya, Mr. T. I'll just be leavin' now," she sniffled and started to hap hazardously jaunt to the door. She was abruptly caught short by a hand grasping her wrist.

"What did the judge sayto you, Mrs. Lovett?" Surely he wasn't that daft. Mr. Todd of course easily deduced that the _only_ man that _could_ remotely be _with_ the Beadle was none other than the bastard Turpin. Oh, how his blood boiled in his veins that Turpin had come even within a mile of his Mrs. Lovett!

"Nothing." She managed to free herself from his grip and started to reach for the knob of the door quickly. But Mr. Todd was too quick this time: he had run around her and backed up against the door, blocking her way out.

"_What_ _did_ _he_ _say_?" He whispered menacingly.

Mrs. Lovett remained silent for once, glaring daggers at him, but speaking none. She had come to Mr. Todd thinking it was the safest place to go after what happened in the market (although what happened to her was still shrouded in a thick fog). She really was shaken up much to her dismay. Now, however, she just wanted to go to her room, thanks to Toby telling Mr. Todd everything. Mrs. Lovett initially thought that if she could just hide away in Mr. Todd's shop for a while, she would feel much better and she wouldn't have to tell him anything, thinking he wouldn't care or even ask why she was there or why she was crying. She was wrong.

"Nellie." He persisted. The daggers (or razors shall we say to fit this story?) he was now giving her were backing her up against the wall on the opposite end of the shop. Mrs. Lovett hit the wall, with Mr. Todd's arms on either side of her head. She looked into his cold stare, her daggers attempting to pierce his.

She closed her eyes while a few tears trickled down her face and bowed her head. She sniffled a bit more.

Knowing that she was just about as stubborn as a thousand mules combined, Mr. Todd gave up on trying to evoke a response from her. Yet, he kept his position, keeping her pinned against the wall.

"Do ya mind if I jus' stay in 'ere the rest of the day, Mr. Todd?" She whimpered, still not looking up at him, afraid of his inevitable negative response. Mrs. Lovett then felt a hand wiping away her tears.

"Of course not, my dear," Sweeney Todd positively replied. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him without the daggers.

"Thank you, love."

* * *

_To be finished in the next chapter: The Reversal of the Roles…_


	5. The Reversal of the Roles

Chapter 5: The Reversal of the Roles

_Not that we are dealing with the ethics and morality or even the justification of murder, but, have you ever pondered about whose role was worse: murderer or accomplice? Meaning is it harder to kill or to dispose of the killed−especially the inhumane way Mrs. Lovett does?_

"Do ya mind if I jus' stay in 'ere the rest of the day, Mr. Todd?" She whimpered, still not looking up at him, afraid of his inevitable negative response. Mrs. Lovett then felt a hand wiping away her tears.

"Of course not, my dear," Sweeney Todd positively replied. She finally opened her eyes and looked at him without the daggers.

"Thank you, love."

DING!

"'Ello, Mr. Todd! I've just come for my weekly shave! How have you been, chap? I daresay I have had quite the week myself with my work and all and…oh my!"

One of Mr. Todd's clients had waltzed in at that inopportune moment, battering on about only he knew what. All he had come for was a shave, of course. But what he had found was something obscenely: Sweeney Todd, his barber, appearing to have Mrs. Lovett, the nice pie maker from bellow, pushed up against a wall doing whatever the client−a Mr. Davies−could only image a man does with a woman.

Luckily, Mrs. Lovett, practical as always, acted for their current situation:

"S'alright, sir. Since me being 'is landlady and all, I came to check on the place ta see if all was well. Turns out I need to 'ave them floor boards replaced seeing Mr. Todd just tripped ovah once and nearly tackled me inta the wall," she flashed a smile to Mr. Davies to reassure him that was all that had happened. The fool bought it!

"That makes perfect sense, Mrs. Lovett! Perfect sense! But I daresay you really should get these boards replaced or I daresay I may as well trip, too! Haha!"

The bliter was much too cheerful, even more than Mrs. Lovett. Too bad he was well known to the community of London, especially Fleet Street, so killing the fool off was not an option. Ah well, he'd probably taste too sweet as a pie anyway.

She went over to the window that was positioned by the armoire that held Mr. Todd's barber tools on it. Mr. Todd began to actually _shave_ Mr. Davies. He knew too that Davies had to live or questions would be asked. Too bad, Mr. Todd really did enjoy slitting throats.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on, time barely seeming to pass. Mr. Todd's customers seemed to flock like sheep to be shorn even more today.

Mr. Todd didn't appear to mind Mrs. Lovett there, in fact, he thought it very beneficial. It was always rather difficult for him to judge who was to live and to die…or rather who would be missed and who wouldn't. He also didn't know the people of London as he used to anymore. Fortunately, that's where Mrs. Lovett came in handy. Most of the time, she was gazing out that window, occasionally pacing to the cracked mirror on the other end of the shop, her hands behind her back, obviously in deep thought. _God, is that how I really look?_ Mr. Todd thought as he watched her mindless waltz.

The two had devised a way of discreetly communicating whether Mr. Todd should kill the man in the barber's chair: he would tap his boot three times on the floor just loud enough for Mrs. Lovett to hear. She would then respond with three knocks on the wall to indicate that "yes" Mr. Todd can slit the man's throat or would simply plain out say "No." Luckily, the men that had the grace of living never questioned Mrs. Lovett's random outburst of saying "no" when clearly no one was speaking to her. They merely shrugged it off as one of the baker's eccentric qualities.

Tap Tap Tap.

Knock Knock Knock.

Before this man's inevitable death, Mr. Todd decided to make idle chitchat to lull the man into a false sense of security:

"And sir, what exactly did you say your profession was again?"

"I didn't but thanks for asking, Mr. Todd. I am just a freelance fiddle player. I thought I could make a start in London seeing as that's where all the greatest end up going and all!"

"Mrs. Lovett. Have you ever served fiddle player before?"

She turned away from the window upon hearing Mr. Todd call her name. She started to walk to him behind the barber chair.

"I can't say I 'ave," she smiled at him, Mr. Todd actually looking at her with an evil smirk plastered on his smug face.

"Although I can't imagine why you should: the meat would be too stringy," he said.

"Excuse me! What on heavens are you two on about!?"

Sweeney Todd then slit the man's throat, never breaking his gaze on Mrs. Lovett. She hit the lever.

Yes, they also made jokes…

It was probably only three hours since Mrs. Lovett had decided on spending the remainder of her day in Mr. Todd's shop. Normally, she would be having her dinner rush at that moment. But alas, that was not on her schedule today. Not after what happened in the market…

Yes, the market and Judge Turpin and the Beadle. Mr. Todd had finally given up on trying to get her to talk about it about two hours ago:

"Are you going to tell me now?" He sternly inquired about thirty minutes after the Davies fellow had left…left alive.

For a good minute, she ignored him for once and continued her stare out the window giving him a taste of his own medicine. But she wasn't as cruel as him and eventually spoke up with a, "not in the slightest."

"How come you're gazing out that window then?"

"Same reason you always stare out yours," she stated.

"Really? It appears as though you are looking for someone," he waltzed over to her and gazed out the window as well, attempting to find whatever it was…whoever it was…that Mrs. Lovett seemed to be searching for.

"You're awfully chatty today, ain't ya?" She ignored his prior remark. He stormed away, determined to seem uninterested to whatever was plaguing her mind.

DING.

"Good evening, Mr. Todd. Hope it ain't too late for a shave?"

"Of course not," he grunted. He was back in a mood after Lovett's snide remark.

Tap Tap Tap.

Knock Knock Knock.

Mrs. Lovett paced to the mirror again.

"And why who is this, Mr. Todd? An apprentice?"

Sweeney nearly choked on his spit and began coughing, fighting back laughter. Boy this man was daft! Must have been one of them foreigners, not realizing women were not likely to learn the craft of being a barber and the like. Mrs. Lovett seemed to have not heard the man's absurd statement.

But then, a spark ignited in Sweeney Todd's ingenious brain:

"Why yes, sir, she is. And if you don't mind, may she…practice…on you?" A glint went through Mr. Todd's eyes.

"By all means, shave away madam!" What an idiot!

"Nellie, come here," he addressed her by her first name to catch her attention as she seemed to be ignoring him most of that day, but also to prevent the man from deducing she was actually the pie maker from downstairs. She did and stood before Sweeney behind the chair with her hands on her hips.

"Wot?"

He leaned to her ear and whispered: "I'm going to teach you how to shave a man's face."

"Alright," she must have finally grown weary and bored of whatever she was doing. She didn't even consider what Mr. Todd actually might be planning.

He began showing her how to properly lather the man's face-she didn't seem to take much interest with her mind being elsewhere due to what happened earlier that day. Then, he placed one of his razors in her hand, but kept his hand steady over hers as to guide it over the man's throat…er…face.

Mr. Todd stood pressing up against Mrs. Lovett from behind, his right hand over hers with the razor and another wrapped around her stomach. Again, she was barely paying attention to him which struck him very oddly, seeing as how she nearly suffocates him on a daily basis. He guessed she truly was distraught. Damn judge!

"You know, ma'am, you are quite the fetching young lady. Too pretty in fact to be a barber's apprentice."

Mr. Todd gripped her hand rather too tightly and let out a deathly growl. Mrs. Lovett responded by elbowing him in his rib cage, shutting him up. They continued.

But rather than moving her hand in an upward stroke to gently remove the stubble, Mr. Todd moved Mrs. Lovett's hand to the left side of the man's neck, razor blade drawn in ready to make rubies.

And in one swift and final motion, Mr. Todd moved Mrs. Lovett's hand and thus razor blade rapidly against the unsuspectingly daft and now dead customer.

Mrs. Lovett gasped and immediately dropped the blade, slicing her finger as she did so. She twirled around to face Sweeney.

"What the bloody 'ell, Mr. Todd!?"

"Yes, 'bloody' indeed," he smirked and took her hand that bled. He brought her hand to his mouth and began to lick the blood that spurted out from her sliced finger. Any day, Mrs. Lovett would have relished at this but considering what he just made her do, she was too furious to even delve into her pleasures.

"Congratulations, my love, you have just murdered an innocent man," he teased as he continued toying with her finger, "and quite well I might add." He started walking Mrs. Lovett away from the chair and pressed the lever when they were clear of the chute.

She growled and tore her hand away from his mouth. "Fine! If I killed him, then you 'ave to chop 'im up and turn 'im inta veal!" She commanded. He grabbed her hand and merely continued what he started moments ago.

"Mr. T! Ya listenin' ta me? Now get to the bake'ouse and 'op to it!"

"No."

"Now now, Mr. T. If you don't do it, who will?" She toyed. He stopped his lapping and met her gaze, still not believing what she had told him to do. Him, bake pies? How ludicrous! The mere thought was absolutely preposterous! _He_ was the murderer, _she_ was the accomplice!

"I will not." Again he continued with "cleaning" the blood from her finger.

"Ya will if ya don't want the police draggin' ya away to the gallows," she teased. He bit her finger ("Ow!"), threw her hand away from him, and began to walk out the door.

"Fine." He looked back at her expecting Mrs. Lovett to follow.

"Good. Make sure Toby don't see ya 'eading down there and make sure to close the door behind yaself when ya get there."

"Aren't you coming?"

"'Eavens no." She was determined to not leave his shop in case _someone_ was to see her. "I'll open the trap door and if ya 'ave any questions jus' call up from bellow."

Mr. Todd left, slamming the door nearly off its hinges and stomping down the stairs much like Toby had done earlier that day.

What a stench it was, the bake house! Mr. Todd rarely set foot in there. Actually, come to think of it, the only time he had was when he and Mrs. Lovett were transporting the grinder and other equipment down there for their devious scheme. He noticed his "work" in a heaping pile bellow the now opened chute. He looked up and saw Mrs. Lovett standing over it and into the bake house. He eyed the corpses again and then back at her:

"Do I have to do them all?" He whined.

"Jus' the one I 'killed'," she scolded whist she made sure to air quote 'killed.' "Make sure ya take 'is valuables and place them by the door to take up later. Then, take 'is clothes off…"

"I have to what?"

"Ya 'eard me. Next time use your brain love when you think about 'aving me kill a man," she winked. She continued: "Then, chop of 'is 'ead, feet, and 'ands. Then you will skin 'im, chop off the meat and pop it in the grinder, only after ya debone 'im of course. Oh, and love, make sure you don't use the genital area in the pies."

Mr. Todd scoffed at the part about having to chop _that_ off. He would not do that! Ew. He crossed his arms.

"I am NOT putting my hand anywhere near his…"

"Don't be such a child, Mr. T."

He grunted and then stalked off to begin _her_ work.

Mrs. Lovett knew not of how long time had elapsed during the time Sweeney disposed of the evidence. She heard him grunting, swearing, and even squealing every so often. It was quite the mixture of noises…of funny noises that brought a smile to her mouth and a laugh to her voice.

"It's done."

Mr. Todd emerged back under the chute. He was soaked head to foot in blood and scraps of flesh. He was quite the site.

"Really love, I nevah get that messy," she giggled.

"Just hand me a towel and a clean shirt, woman," he yelled. She fetched him just that and threw them down the chute for him to catch.

A mere five minutes later, Sweeney Todd entered through his shop door. Mrs. Lovett was at the window again. He noted that the trap door was back to normal and the blood from the daft man had been cleaned. It looked just like a normal barber shop and surely not some mad man's murder house.

Mr. Todd went to sit in his chair, appearing to be exhausted after disposing the evidence. Perhaps her work was much more difficult than his. Clearly it was more taxing and physical than just slitting a man's throat. He just assumed that killing a man was more mental exhausting. Maybe doing what Mrs. Lovett had to do was just as bad as what Mr. Todd had to do. He wondered if she felt her conscious pecking away at her brain when she does what she does in the bake house. Just then, a suppressed squeal broke his thoughts: it was Mrs. Lovett.

He turned his head to face her. She was gaping out the window with her hand over her mouth, eyes widened.

"What?"

She ignored him again and ran straight towards the chest that Pirelli's body had died in.

"Mrs. Lovett." What was with her even more erratic behavior today?

She ignored him still and propped the trunk open and climbed inside, shutting the lid. Mr. Todd looked at it with absolute confusion festering away in his eyes and mind. He was just about to get out of his chair and demand what the hell she was doing when the door opened to reveal none other than Beadle Bamford.

"Ah, Mr. Todd. My favourite barber," the Beadle cocked a sly, conceited smile and tipped his hat.

Sweeney was speechless. Bamford took note and merely continued:

"I was wondering perhaps if you know where Eleanor Lovett is. I could not find her in her shop so decided to ask you, her tenant," he said in his greasy voice.

"And what is it you want from Mrs. Lovett?" He snarled.

"Unfortunately, Mr. Todd, that in disclosed information that is only to be addressed to Mrs. Lovett and not to you. My apologies. I must be on my way then if you don't know where she is," Bamford eyed Mr. Todd anticipating an answer.

"I have not seen her."

"Then a good evening to you, Mr. Todd." He tipped his hat again and was about to leave:

"Sir, perhaps before you leave I can interest you in a free shave? It shall be the closest you will ever know."

"As much as I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Todd, I do have prior obligations to attend to first. G'night." And with that, the Beadle Bamford left without another seconds delay.

Sweeney threw his razor that was in his hand the moment he laid eyes upon the Beadle across the floor. Remembering then that Mrs. Lovett was still in the trunk, and now knowing why (although he wasn't exactly sure why she was all of a sudden afraid of the Beadle now) she hid there, he went over and opened the lid. Since she showed no signs of movement to get herself out, Mr. Todd bent over and picked her up from under her arms and pried her out of the trunk.

She hugged him again and buried her face in his chest.

"Please tell what's going on, Nellie."

Again, he was met with silence.

* * *

Yay! That was really fun to write actually! I just have a question, do I need to make Sweeney Todd talk less? Like, do you enjoy this version of Sweeney? I feel as though he talks too much and he is too caring. Lately, I've been reading this 'fic where he is kind of a total cruel bastard and doesn't seem to care for Mrs. Lovett at all...it's a really good 'fic...too much sex for my taste but I think it fits their relationship. It's called "Public Affairs" by funkyflamingo...check it out! ^_^

Also, thank you all to reviewing! Hope you enjoy this chapter! I think it's funny...oh! That leads to another question: is this story too funny and not dark enough?

Stay tuned for the next chapter where we may learn what put Mrs. Lovett over the edge...Chapter 6: The Dinner with a most "Honorable" Guest!


	6. The Dinner with a Most Honorable Guest

Chapter 6: The Dinner with a Most "Honorable" Guest

Three days had transpired since the events of the market and the Beadle's untimely appearance in Mr. Todd's barber shop.

Mrs. Lovett seemed to have returned to her "normal," cheery, never-ending talking self. Her pie shop kept her immensely busy so she didn't have any time to dwell on the negatives of the meeting in the market and what not. In fact, after the Beadle had departed from Todd's shop, and after Mrs. Lovett ran to Mr. Todd's arms again, she soon left herself, but not before:

"Please tell what's going on, Nellie."

Again, he was met with silence. He pulled away to make her look at him in the eyes. She attempted to divert her gaze but was soon lost in his glance.

"No."

"Mrs. Lovett." He had stopped using his calm demeanor and resorted back to his commanding one.

"I said 'no' Mr. Todd."

"And why not?" His patience was wearing thin as he gripped onto her arms tighter on impulse.

"Look, I ain't tellin' ya so jus' drop it!" Turns out, her patience was just as thin as his was. She wiggled herself out of his arms and left with the door slamming behind her…

_What was with that damn woman? One second she's all chatty and the next, she's as quiet as a mute! _Those were of course a Mr. Sweeney Todd's thoughts over those next three days. It absolutely plagued his mind that he knew naught of what transpired in St. Dunstan's that had caused a rather…different…Mrs. Lovett. And the judge! The fucking, bloody judge! He was there! If only Sweeney had gone with them: he would have had him! The door swung open:

"Mistah T? I brought ya yer dinner, sir," stuttered Toby as he set a tray of food down on the chest. Mr. Todd seemed to just ignore him as he continued to stare idly out the window (seriously, what else would he be doing?). Toby was just about to leave when he heard something:

"Where's Mrs. Lovett, boy?"

"She fell asleep on the sofa 'bout an hour ago, aftah we closed. I noticed she forgot ta bring ya up some food so I decided ta do it for 'er."

Sweeney remained quiet.

"If that'll be all, sir, I gotta go clean up now."

"Tobias, are you positively sure nothing else happened in the market?"

Even though that was a thing in the past with the incident being so long ago, Toby knew exactly what Mr. Todd was suggesting: he wasn't _that_ dumb after all.

"Like I said, sir, they was jus' talkin'. I 'ad me eyes on them the whole time I did. 'E must 'ave said somethin' though. Mum nearly ran outta the market without me aftah they finished. She's nevah acted like that before!"

"Indeed she hasn't. Now get out." With that, Toby was gone.

* * *

Nellie was sleeping on the sofa. Boy was that dinner rush by far the hardest she had ever had to endure! The customers were truly unruly tonight. If only she could have sent nearly three fourths of them up for a "shave." Never before had she been that exhausted afterwards! She nearly had passed out after that last basta….er….customer had left. Luckily, she had meandered over to the sofa just in time. It wasn't as comfy as her bed but it would do.

About an hour and a half into her much-needed nap, Mr. Todd had waltzed down into the parlour. He noted the sleeping Mrs. Lovett. He growled at her peaceful form, envying her blissful sleep and how it seemed to befall her naturally whereas it took him sometimes hours upon hours to drift asleep.

He was standing over her now. She snored a bit and he couldn't help but suppress a light chuckle escaping his lips. _How very "lady" like…_ Mr. Todd got on his knees by her side. Oh, what was that man up to now?

He placed his face incredibly close to Mrs. Lovett's ear (she was sleeping on her back). He himself knew not of what he was to going to do…and he wasn't even given a chance to think about that when…

SMACK!

Mrs. Lovett turned over to face the back of the sofa, all the while doing so, she managed to hit Sweeney Todd smack in the face with one of her arms (out of reflex of course!), causing him to lose his composure and stumble backwards.

He growled loudly and cursed her a bit.

Sweeney composed himself and crawled back to the sofa, determined as ever to get back at her for hitting him. But _how_? An evil, little grin graced his mouth as his smile grew from ear to ear. Perhaps he could scare the living daylights out of her? Yes, that'll work.

And Sweeney Todd knew just how.

Slowly and ever so quietly, Todd drew himself up on the sofa, so careful so as not to wake an unsuspecting Nellie Lovett. Before he got up all the way, he moved Lovett so she was facing up again. He put one leg on her right side of her hip and the other on her left side: it almost appeared as if he was straddling her. No. He thought to himself, he was merely going to spook her and make her regret ever hitting him in the face…even if she did so unintentionally it still bloody hurt! Then, he took out a razor.

He flicked it open and let himself gaze upon its silver beauty in the illuminating moonlight that shone through the curtains. Then, he felt Mrs. Lovett stir beneath him. She was attempting to move back into her previous position; she grunted as she couldn't seem to return to that comfortable position (Todd was locking her in her spot with his legs). She gave up and stopped her futile moving. Sweeny lowered his razor-filled hand and began drawing it nearer to her neck. He had the bladed side facing away from her throat: he wasn't going to kill her after all, just scare the hell out of her. Fortunately, the razorblade was icy due to it being inactive for the past couple of hours. Perfect, Mr. Todd grinned. He got closer to Nellie's neck and pressed it up against her throat and…

Mrs. Lovett screeched as some cold metal brushed against her vulnerable throat. In the process of emitting said screech, she had bolted upright, colliding with some unseen force: smacking heads with Mr. Sweeney Todd, causing the two to fall from the sofa and land with a thud to the floor, still entwined with each other, with Lovett now on top of a laughing Todd.

"What the bloody, fucking 'ell, Mr. Todd!?" She exasperated. "S'not funny! Ya foul git! What were ya thinking almost slittin' me throat, ya bloody bastard!?"

She was met with more chuckles. She eyed Mr. Todd and mustered the coldest glare she could manage. He finally stopped and rather quickly put on his demon façade.

"I wasn't gonna kill you, ya stupid woman. In case you hadn't noticed (which I'm pretty sure you didn't), my razor wasn't pressed up against your throat with the _bladed_ end."

"Well, ya shouldn't even 'ave did _that_, ya numpty! Gave me a good fright ya did!"

"And _that_, my dear, was _exactly_ what I was doing. Now get off me!" He growled.

"No! And why the 'ell did ya go about tryin' ta scare me, you prat?" She was sitting on top of Mr. Todd, much like he was when they were still on the sofa, pinning him to the ground, refusing to let him get away with what he just did.

Unfortunately for her, Mr. Todd had the upper hand in strength and pushed himself up, reversing their positions, now pinning Mrs. Lovett to the floor with her hands above her head and Mr. Todd's hands making sure she couldn't escape.

He leaned his face to her ear and whispered: "You hit me whilst you were sleeping and I saw fit to get you back."

God was she enjoying their newfound positions all too much−the way his hot breath trickled in her ear and _especially_ their proximity in the lower regions.

"Eww," said an unannounced, young Toby as he emerged into the room to fall asleep in the armchair. He quickly backed out of the parlour. Toby had most certainly not bargained to find Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett doing….what were they doing exactly? Oh well. He figured it must not have been a thing for a lad such as himself to witness. He quickly erased the image from his mind with a bottle of gin. The two took no notice of the boy:

"While I have you here, Mrs. Lovett, I demand that you tell me what happened between you and the judge," he snarled into her ear.

Damn! The bloke was bringing _that_ up again! She tried to move her hands but felt Mr. Todd's grip tighten to the point that she let out a gasp of pain.

"I am not going anywhere until I know, my pet," he whispered devilishly.

"Then I guess we ain't going anywhere," she teased.

He abruptly got up, knowing full well she wasn't going to reveal anything.

"Where you goin', love?" Mrs. Lovett sounded disappointed after Sweeney got off her.

"Anywhere," he slyly retorted as he waltzed into her bedroom, slamming the door. She heard a click a mere second later.

"'Ey! Where am I suppose ta sleep, Mr. T?!" She yelled as she pounded her door. Mrs. Lovett heard a mocking muffled response:

"As I recall, you were sleeping rather soundly on the sofa. I think that'll do. G'night, love."

Mrs. Lovett exaggerated a sigh and made unintelligible words that probably were curses as she made her way back to the sofa to fall back asleep.

And so, Tobias Ragg slept slouched in in a booth with gin in hand, Eleanor Lovett slept on her sofa, and Sweeney Todd slept the most soundly in Lovett's bed…

And occasionally throughout the night, Nellie would awaken due to lack of comfort and hurled whatever was in reach at her door, much to Sweeney's dismay as it awoke him each time.

* * *

"Toby dear, how 'bout we go out ta dinner tonight?" Mrs. Lovett asked the boy after she closed up her shop when the lunch customers finally left.

"Really? Out ta dinner, mum?" He was clearly enthralled at this. Mrs. Lovett ruffled his hair and smiled down at the boy.

"O' course! We can afford ta close shop fer tonight and go out ourselves for once. I've always fancied them classy restaurants and now, can finally afford to eat at one! It'll be a change instead of 'aving to cook and eat what's 'ere."

"Alright mum! When we goin'?" He was absolutely giddy now.

"'Ow 'bout in an 'our? The lunch rush lasted much later than I expected and we could sure use an early dinner. Make sure ya wear your best clothes fer tonight, Toby: I want this to be the best!" She beamed with happiness and motioned for the boy to be off.

"I wonda if Mr. Todd will go?"

Mrs. Lovett walked out of her shop and heaved herself up the stairs and into his shop.

"Mr. T?"

He ignored her as usual as he continued staring out his window with his arm on the pane.

"Mr. T. Would ya like ta join me and Toby for dinner this evening? We're gonna go out fer once and I'd like it if ya tagged along."

"No," was his sole response.

"Oh come on Mr. Todd! It's jus' dinner!" She walked over to him.

"I said no."

"Fine. But I won't be choppin' up your customers then," she teased, although she was quite serious.

"You wouldn't dare," he whirled around to look at her.

"I would."

"I call your bluff," he evilly grinned down at her. She was at a loss for words that once. Damn. Then, a marvelous thought struck her:

"I'll ya what 'appened in the market if ya agree ta come," she coyly responded. Mr. Todd just stared at Mrs. Lovett, not quite believing he heard her right. When it finally registered in his brain, Mr. Todd grinned at her.

"Finally. Tell me."

"'Old yer 'orses. Ya ain't getting' away that easy, Mr. T. I'll tell ya _after_ dinner, love."

He grunted a "fine" followed by a growl of annoyance.

"Good. Make sure ya wear yer _best_ clothes: we're goin' to a _fancy_ restaurant now. Be ready ta go in an 'our." She made her way out of the barber shop all the while suppressing a fit of happy, school-girl giggles until she was half way down the stairs where she squealed with happiness.

"Well, ain't this lovely!" Mrs. Lovett beamed as the three were seated at their grandiose table. She let her eyes intake their marvelous surroundings. She had only seen beauty like this back when she and Albert went out to dinner (which was rare and not enough). The walls seemed to never end as they cascaded up until they finally met the grand ceiling where hundreds of luscious chandeliers swayed back and forth. The restaurant was truly worth the money they would surely be spending. Hopefully the food was just as magnificent.

After they had taken their order (and Mrs. Lovett had made sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu), Nellie noticed Toby eyeing Sweeney rather furiously, his hands gripping his silverware and his gave unrelenting. They were sat around a large round table, each spread out evenly. She then looked at Mr. Todd who seemed to be giving Toby quite the glare himself.

"Boys, calm down. No need ta fight at the table," she muttered not really expecting them to listen to her. As their stare down lingered on, Mrs. Lovett let her eyes wander more around the fancy restaurant. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed an all too familiar face at the door. Unfortunately, she had stared too long and said face waltzed across the room to her. _He_ was accompanied by the beadle of course as he strode across the room and came face to face with Mrs. Lovett.

"My dear Nellie Lovett! How wonderful it is to see you again, my love! Waiter! Two more chairs over here please!" Judge Turpin egotistically exclaimed.

"And 'ow…nice…ta see you, ya 'onor," Mrs. Lovett shyly proclaimed. Sweeney Todd immediately dropped his deathly gaze from Toby and flung it straight at Judge Turpin. Turpin took no notice as he continued to keep his gaze on Mrs. Lovett.

The waiter had finally brought two more chairs for the judge and the beadle. The current arrangements of seats were Mr. Todd sitting next to Mrs. Lovett, her sitting next to Toby; then there was Beadle Bamford sitting next to Mr. Todd (across from Toby) and Judge Turpin directly across the table in front of Mrs. Lovett. After they all had settled down, Turpin broke the rather harsh silence:

"And how are you, my dear?" Sweeney moved his chair closer to Mrs. Lovett as Turpin spoke.

"Quite alright, sir," she nonchalantly said. Mrs. Lovett had composed herself and pretended as though their little meeting in the market had never happened. She wasn't weak; she constantly had told herself those past few days. Surely Turpin wasn't as frightening as she previously had thought.

"Marvelous." He motioned rather rudely for a waiter to come take his and the beadle's orders.

Mrs. Lovett suddenly felt a hand on her thigh; she turned and saw Mr. Todd extremely close to her on her right. She could see him eyeing the judge with the outermost hate and malice he could muster. Maybe the judge being there wasn't as bad as she initially thought.

After about a century, or so it had seemed, Turpin had finally noticed Sweeney Todd present. He gave a scowl at the man that was acquainted with that sailor boy.

"Ah, Mr. Todd. You again?" He snorted. Mrs. Lovett felt Sweeney grip her thigh and she almost yelped in pain. She withdrew one of her hands that was on the table and took hold of his to pry it off her thigh. She succeeded but he only moved his grip from her leg to her hand.

"Yes, my lord. And I would…like you to know…that I have no connections to that sailor whatsoever."

"Hmm." Turpin surely didn't buy it but let it go all the same. Turpin averted his gaze from Mr. Todd's to Mrs. Lovett's. He decided to make small talk with her until dinner came.

They _actually_ seemed to be hitting it off! Sweeney grasped Nellie's hand even tighter. She chuckled when Turpin made a joke and replied courtly to all his questions about her pie business, the weather, and what have you. Even the beadle and Toby piped in here and there. And it all made Sweeney Todd sick to his stomach (good thing he hadn't eaten yet). His rage was boiling in his blood.

"Mr. Todd, may I ask your…relationship with Mrs. Lovett?"

Oh! That does it! Every time, whether it be Benjamin Barker or Sweeney Todd, he had his eyes on a woman−err…not like he had the "hots" for Mrs. Lovett or anything, but still− that damn judge always seemed to have his unorthodox gave on the very same woman, too! And now, that woman was Eleanor Lovett! Damn that fucking judge…and the beadle for that matter…the bloody old hell! Turpin's remark was only made for him to be able to tell if Mrs. Lovett was available for he knew Mr. Todd would say they weren't in a relationship. Well, Mr. Todd would sure change that:

Sweeney removed his hand from under the table and out of his grasp on Mrs. Lovett's hand. He then draped an arm over Mrs. Lovett. She was fighting back the urge to squeal with delight at his sudden "affection."

"As I matter of fact, my lord, it is _actually_ Mrs. _To_…"

"Mr. Todd! A word with you, please!" Mrs. Lovett had risen from her chair rather profusely and dragged Sweeney out of the restaurant via the back door, leaving Toby awkwardly alone with Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford…

"What the 'ell are ya thin', Mr. T!?" They were in an alleyway at the back of the restaurant. Sweeney just grunted at her as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Well!?" She persisted.

"Well what!?" He yelled.

"Oh please! Don'tcha bloody know by now what that damn man will do once he's got an interest in a woman!?"

"Come again?" His patience was wearing thin with this blasted woman. He was just trying to do her a favor and get the judge of her trail (and attempt to make a fool of the judge while he was at it).

"Grr. Ya thick head! Obviously 'e wants 'is way with me….what 'e said at the market made that all too clear…and if _you_ 'ad continued on if _I_ 'adn't stopped ya, 'e would think we was married and then do away with ya _again_ ta bloody Australia jus' like 'e done when you was Benjamin! Stupid man!" She hit him in the chest.

"…"

"Oh! Bettcha didn't think o' that now did ya?"

Nope, Sweeney Todd clearly had not. It was _exactly_ the same as back then…although they weren't married but still, Turpin was after Mrs. Lovett now. He wanted his way with her, just like he said in the market…

"Wait. What did you say about the market?"

"Nothing."

"Yes you did. Tell me, Mrs. Lovett," he pushed her against the wall.

"Is it after dinner?" She teased. He let her go. "I thought not."

He continued to just look at her. She was being practical as always: always thinking logically and rationally at any situation at hand. Lucky for him, Mrs. Lovett acted when she did or he really might have been deported again under another false charge. And then she may even get…no! That would never happen to his Eleanor Lovett. It may have happened to his Lucy Barker but he would stay here and protect Nellie when he couldn't protect Lucy.

"Let's go back, love. Toby probably isn't appreciating 'is newfound company." She started walking away from him back to the door.

"I won't let that happen."

"What was that, dearie?"

"I won't let him have his way…or any way for that matter…with you, Nellie."

"O' course ya won't, love," she said in a light teasing voice, not thinking him to be serious. He _was_ serious, however.

"I mean it, woman."

"Sure ya do," she laughed. Sweeney Todd, care about her safety? Ha! Since when? This was a sure good laugh.

"How can I prove it to you, you daft woman?" He growled, obviously annoyed with her not taking him seriously.

She spun around to face him, finally taking him not for granted.

"Well…"

But before she could continue on, she found two firm arms pushing her against the wall again and wet lips crashing down on hers…

* * *

Well, I kinda liked it. Took a lot longer than I thought to write ya know, with writer's block and all. I really wanted to stop where I did just to get it up because I am paranoid about my computer all of a sudden not working and erasing all my hard work! So yeah, that's why I ended here.

So, is that darker? But still funny? I know I laughed!

My questions for you today are the following:

"Whose your favourite Sweeney Todd character!?" I really wanna know! Mine's Beadle Bamford! Crazy right? I just love Timothy Spall's portrayal of him in the 2007 movie! His voice and expressions are priceless! Seriously, just watch the part in the movie when Mrs. Lovett goes to fetch Mr. Todd to kill Toby and then the beadle comes in...he just cracks me up! Second question:

"Who of you have seen Dark Shadows?" I watch that movie constanly (but only the scenes with Dr. Hoffman ;)). It cracks me up! I am thinking about doing a 'fic but don't know if I should. Great movie though...I think I'll go watch that now...oh! and watch Sweeney Todd at the same time! Hope you enjoyed! And maybe...just maybe...the whole back story of the market will be revealed...(again, I really have no idea what this story is about...I just write whatever pops into me head!).

Off ta watch me movies now!


	7. The After Dinner

Chapter 7: The After of the Dinner

But before she could continue on, she found two firm arms pushing her against the wall again and wet lips crashing down on hers…

It was yet again another rare, _rare_ occasion that Mrs. Eleanor Lovett was rendered absolutely and utterly speechless! And not just because the demon barber's lips were covering her own…

No−it was just the mere fact that the man who she was so hopelessly, devotedly in love with had brought about the kiss all by himself! This was surely a little piece of heaven!

And just when Nellie thought it couldn't get any better, she was proven blissfully wrong:

Intensification: that was the sheer word that could describe just what was happening with their kiss. Frenzy could be another one for that matter. Mrs. Lovett was practically _inside_ the wall as Mr. Todd seemed to keep pushing her petite frame backwards with each kiss he made, with his body pressed up against hers and hands on either side of her head. Yes, _kisses_ to be more precise. Oh and how their tongues devilishly toyed with one another as the proximity of their mouths increased…

_Nearly_ another 15 years had passed in their heated, lustful kiss before Sweeney took the liberty to reluctantly break away and speak:

"I'm not going back in there."

However, his remark did not seem to even faze her: she merely stood (or at least tried her best to remain slouching against the wall) wide-eyed, looking at him and yet not at the same time_. Did that really just 'appened?! Mr. T just bloody kissed me?! He KISSED me!? _Her mind was racing against her heart in a heated battle as to which would explode first. Sweeney Todd had kissed her on his own accord! It was all too surreal.

"Mrs. Lovett? I said I am not going back to dinner. Ya hear me?" He said nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. It was his tone that brought her back to her senses.

"Why?"

"If I so much as _hear_ that man take a single breathe again, let alone see him, I will slit his throat right then and there. I can't control myself: there's no telling what I'll do."

Nellie just looked at him. He was right though. As unpredictable as he was with his temper, and the judge being within reach, Mr. Todd could snap at any moment: he was borderline psychotic.

"Where ya goin' then, love?"

"I'll stay put and watch through the windows discreetly until you and the boy are finished."

"I thought ya jus' said that you'd go bonkers if ya _saw_ 'im again?" She teased as she made her way back to the door. Clearly, by the look on his face, Mr. Todd was not amused with her chide remark.

"Hurry up, woman." He started to pace around in the back alley, and then added as he faced away from her: "Someone has to make sure he doesn't….well, you know."

"Thank ya, love."

With that, she was gone, leaving a rather fuming barber behind who was so lost in his thoughts about revenge that he nearly punched the window he was gazing into.

* * *

"And where is the barber, Mrs. Lovett?" Judge Turpin greasily chimed when Nellie arrived back to dinner, seemingly without Sweeney Todd.

"Oh, 'e 'ad ta get 'ome. Some business or other 'e forgot to attend ta early and only just remembered now. Urgent it was, or e' would never 'ave left," she lied all the while forgetting the honorifics.

"I see." Although curious as to what a barber could possibly needing to be doing so suddenly, Turpin brushed it off. All the better, he had thought: Nellie Lovett was still there. She was still there without the insufferable barber.

Their dinners had arrived at that moment. And sir, they certainly looked like as much as they were worth! Luckily for Mrs. Lovett, conversation with the judge and the beadle ceased due to propriety, seeing as though they had their mouths full and all. All was going swimmingly when the beadle decided to break the silence with his still half-full mouth (it seems someone had forgotten their manners):

"Ah Mrs. Lovett: perhaps Mr. Todd never told you, but I dropped by the other night to inquire on you. Well, why don't you ask her yourself, my lord?" Bamford glanced to Turpin, all the while mustering the foulest smirk he could. It appeared as though he was fighting off an urge to laugh.

"Ah yes. I was wondering, my dear, if you would join me at my ball? I host one every so often for my close…friends at Kearney's Lane and thought it only appropriate to invite you, my dearest," he drew an arm out across the table and clasped Nellie's hand that happened to be vulnerable on the table. She flinched a bit but never faltered.

The ball, a masquerade themed one to be exact−that was where _it_ had happened: the night that inevitably saw to the demise of Lucy Barker. And now, the ball beckoned for Eleanor Lovett all the same. The beadle even had called on her a few days ago. And now, the judge was calling her straight to his house the night of his ball. And of course, everyone would be in masks, how would she be able to tell which was Turpin, or the beadle for that matter? There would be no one she would know there: she would probably wander and drink. And when she finally would be able to recognize the judge, it would all be too late. She would be no match and they all would laugh. _It_ would happen to her just like _it_ did with Lucy.

No! Mrs. Lovett screamed in her head. She was _not_ Lucy! She was _not_ daft like her! She would _not_ so easily be coerced into such a thing! And she certainly would _not_ "die" a pathetic "death" like her!

"I'd rather not, sir," she attempted to withdraw her hand but Turpin gripped it harder.

"Are thee rejecting me, Mrs. Lovett?" Turpin seemed offended. He gave her the most intense glare he could that sent shivers tingling down her spine.

"Yes. I am _completely_ rejectin' ya. And if you'll be so kind, you can pay the bill. Toby! We're leavin'!"

She grabbed the boy and scurried away. She could have sworn she heard him say something as she daunted out the door.

"You'll regret your decision, Eleanor Lovett."

* * *

Fortunately for the judge, and even Sweeney Todd (seeing as though if he were to murder Turpin in cold blood in the middle of a _public_ restaurant he would surely be having a date with the gallows), Todd was not looking at the moment when Turpin had seized Mrs. Lovett's hand. He had just looked back through a window to see now the judge and the beadle sitting at the table…alone.

He felt someone grab his arm and started to pull him away.

"Come on. We're going!"

Mrs. Lovett looped an arm through his in order to drag him along towards home. She had Toby linked with her other arm. She really needed the support of her two boys right now: that bastard had put her in distraught again and she hated it.

Sweeney decided it was best to remain silent, which was all too easy for him. He could sense that something was eating away at Mrs. Lovett again but the boy was around so there was no use in striking up a conversation. So they merely continued to walk home.

One may have thought they were glancing at a loving, nuclear family: a man, his wife, and their son. But, upon closer deduction, they still wouldn't be able to infer that they were actuallt gazing upon a murderer, his accomplice, and their…ummm…pet? Well, whatever the boy was anyway (An accomplice to the accomplice perhaps−even though he wasn't involved _directly_ in their insidious plot.)

Mrs. Lovett jumbled with the keys to her shop until finally they were in.

"Toby, time fer bed."

"But it's only 8 o'clock, mum!"

"Oh, right. Then, go…do something I guess. But ya better be in bed by ten, ya hear lad?" Toby ran off into the parlour leaving the two adults alone in the shop. Mrs. Lovett sighed as she put her keys away.

"Well, I'm off ta bed! Night love!" She rushed a little too cheerily; she even attempted a run to her room before she felt herself being drawn backwards.

"Let go o' me, Mr. T!"

"No. It's _after dinner_, Mrs. Lovett," he whispered in her ear, or at least attempted to amidst her struggling to tear herself out of his arms that were wrapped around her waist. She kept swatting his hands but to no avail. Even elbowing him didn't seem to work. Mrs. Lovett decided if he was going to make her tell him, she'd make it as difficult as she possibly could.

She went limp in his arms. Mr. Todd nearly keeled over as gravity seemed to be working in his odds now. But he never faltered as he tried to stand upright with Mrs. Lovett still in his arms.

"Get up!"

She also decided to ignore him but never stopped herself from smiling rather profusely at his struggles.

"Fine, woman."

With that, he began to drag out of the shop, his hands under her inner arms, whilst her feet dragged across the tile. She could hear his muted swears and grunts and then the little jingle indicating they were now in the garden.

Oh bugger: the stairs, they simultaneously thought. For Mrs. Lovett, if Mr. Todd continued the "carrying" her the way she was, every step he took would cause her feet to painfully collide with each stair. For Mr. Todd, he would have to awkwardly trek up the stairs backwards, while attempting to steady himself so he wouldn't fall forwards and cause the both of them to fall to the ground.

"I will slit your throat if you don't get up and go upstairs right now," he threatened.

"Oh love, what good will that do ya? If I'm dead, then you won't get to 'ear what 'appened in the market. And we both know _that's_ why you are draggin' me up the stairs," she mocked.

He growled and dropped her.

"Oi! That 'urt, git!"

"Well, if you weren't being so bloody difficult, I wouldn't have dropped you," he snarled.

She ignored and walked passed him up the stairs.

"Well?" Sweeney asked as he propped himself up against the shop door, probably staying there in case Mrs. Lovett were to make another dash for it. She herself went to that window again like she did when she took sanctuary in his shop those few days ago. He heard her sniffle a bit.

"Fine:

"_Toby, what say you that we get ya a nice new jacket? Since Winter being ovah, you could sure use a nice lighter one than that woolen on o' yours!" Mrs. Lovett beamed as her and Toby strolled around St. Dunstan's browsing away for heaven knows what. They had already picked up the supplies from the grocer and now were merely shopping for the unnecessary items._

"_Sure mum!"_

_She and Toby started off to one of the tailors when two men crossed their paths. All though, they weren't just any men−they were Judge Turpin and Beadle Bamford. Turpin cast his gaze upon Mrs. Lovett, eyeing her up and down several times before he settled to look her in the eye and strike up a conversation._

"_Ahh, it's…Mrs. Lovett, is it not, my fine lady?" The judge asked as his eyes flickered to her exposed neckline and then back up to her eyes._

"_Yes, sir. And you are Judge Turpin, are you not, sir?" She noted his eyes and felt a bit uncomfortable but shrugged it off: it was her own damn fault for not wearing a shawl anyway._

"_Indeed. Fine weather we're having, isn't it?" _

"_Very fine, your lordship," Mrs. Lovett was growing tired of this seemingly not-going-anywhere conversation. What the hell did the judge want anyway? Surely he didn't start to converse with her merely to state the inexplicably obvious weather._

"_Might I have a more private word with you, Mrs. Lovett?" He motioned at Toby with his eyes. _

"_Sure, your lordship. Toby? Mind waiting for me at the tailor?" Toby nodded and walked away._

"_And what is it you want to talk more privately about, sir?" Nellie was confounded. What did he have to say that he couldn't with Toby around?_

_Judge Turpin advanced on her and placed his mouth right next to her ear. He began to whisper things: things that a twelve-year-old boy most certainly should not hear; things that made Nellie's stomach churn over and over again; things that perhaps even shouldn't be spoken aloud; things that were so unorthodox that in made murder seem like a virtue; things that a man like the calamitous, repulsive, repugnant, Judge Turpin only dreams of doing with a woman._

"…_and I'd like to do them all to you, Eleanor Lovett."_

_Nellie gasped and quickly clasped a hand to her mouth. All she needed right now was to leave._

"_My lord, I must be goin'."_"

Sweeney Todd had moved from the door during Mrs. Lovett's monologue and stood next to her, not knowing what to say or what to do. He couldn't even decide if he should let his blood boil for knowing that Turpin was just as ever hell-bent on seducing (or trying in Nellie's case) women and then doing what he did to Lucy all over again, or if he should simmer it down and offer words of comfort to Mrs. Lovett. He remained silent.

"I just overreacted a bit, tha's all. I dunno why it got to me: it jus' did," she finally muttered as she continued staring out the window, probably not even realizing Mr. Todd stood silent beside her.

"You had every right to be scared."

"I weren't scared."

"Really?" He teased. "It was the fucking judge! Of course you were scared!" He yelled.

"I said I overreacted, nothing' more. I told ya I can 'andle meself!" Mrs. Lovett puffed and turned to him with her arms crossed.

"But why, when I can?" Sweeney said, perhaps with a twinge of empathy in his voice, as he brought a hand to her cheek and began to caress it very smoothly. She closed her eyes.

"Since when did ya get to be so…so _gentle_, Mr. T?" She badgered.

"Would you rather have a _razor_ pressed up against your throat, Mrs. Lovett?"

* * *

Yay! I finished it...finally! And guess what?! I finally have a plot! I now know where this is going! Booyahahaha!

Thank you all to reading and reviewing!

On another note, I thought I would share this with you guys: I was playing The Sims 2 the other night (I hope you guys know what that is or this may not make much sense), and I have a family: a Lovett family with Nellie, Sweeney, and Tobias living in a lovely house I made for them that resembles a more Victorian style of Fleet Street. Well, all was going well, Nellie and Sweeney were in love (or course!) and Tobias had just turned into a teenager and was out at school. Meanwhile, somehow the parlour caught fire due to the Christmas tree being turned on for too long and bursted into flames. Well, I just found it rather ironic that even in a game, Mrs. Lovett seems to die in flames O_o. Well, fuck: there goes my game. Ah well, poor bugger! ^_^

Kay, I'm done! Hope you enjoyed and aren't disappointed that _that_ was what happened to Mrs. Lovett. I'm not sure I like it but it's the only idea I got. And come on, if some perv came up to you, and muttered about how he wanted to "do you," I know I would be freaked. I dunno, I just get the feeling that it was a stupid reason for our hardy and strong-willed Eleanor Lovett to be easily distressed. Buh Bye!


	8. Pussycats and Toast

_It would do you some good if you decided to depict the rather unruly Mrs. Mooney as Julie Walters/Molly Weasely. Let's see if you can see why…_

Chapter 8: Pussycats and Toast

After having been verbally assaulted and almost swindled by Judge Turpin, one could only imagine how much stress was dwindling away in Mrs. Lovett's mind. Oh well: it probably couldn't intensity and worsen. Well, thanks to her damn loyal customers, it very much could indeed during her lunch and dinner rushes. And days later, even that could turn into much more distress when her arch rival's business all of a sudden started to flourish almost as much as her own. In fact, it was the rivalry of the 1800s in Victorian London…

"Toby, I think we need ta expand our enterprises, love," Mrs. Lovett told the boy one afternoon after a rather unusually slow lunch…_rush_?

"What ya mean, mum?" Toby was puzzled at her random thought.

"Well, seeing as though Mooney's shop 'as been jus' as popular as _mine_, and 'ow _my_ customers 'ave decided ta bequeath their loyalty to 'er, I say we need ta get 'em back! And 'ow else but to try new things?" She straightened herself and but on a rather proud face. She was peering across Fleet Street through the window to Mrs. Mooney's Pie Shop.

"What we gonna sell then?" He was ever so curious. He didn't know Mrs. Lovett could bake other things besides her famous pies.

"Well, first, we'll broaden our stock of alcohol. Maybe get some barrels o' rum and whiskey and some fancy wines. I think if we's got more o' a selection rather than jus' the gin, people would 'ave something else ta down their pies with. Ya know, sometimes, even the drink can make the food taste a bit different," she winked at Toby. He laughed a bit.

"Sounds cool, mum! But what else?"

"Ummm, I dunno. What do you think?"

"'Ow bought some other _foods_?" Toby piped, anxiously awaiting her answer to see if she _could_ bake other foods.

"I guess we _could_ do that. I dunno what else to make. It is a _meat_ _pie_ shop after all: I don't think it would be proper ta sell anything but a _meat pie_," she said. Aha! So, she really only knew how to make her special pies, Toby thought to himself, all the while grinning behind her back.

"What if you use a different kind o' meat, mum?" Toby questioned. Mrs. Lovett snorted a bit. Ha! _Other_ "meat"! If she did that, that would mean she would have to go out and _buy_ some: and why do that when her meat was _free_?

"What _kind_ o' meat do you use, mum?" Mrs. Lovett nearly gagged on her spit at Toby's question. It was a damn right good question. What do you call _human_ meat besides _human_ meat?

"Umm, beef…from a…cow, dearie," she lied. Luckily, he seemed to have bought it.

"Then, we need ta try a different animal: like maybe some chicken or pork even!"

"I suppose, dearie," she turned to face Toby and mustered a feigned smile. She would just tell him that and continue using her _special_ meat for the pies. During that thought, however, she felt herself being pulled out the door and out into Fleet Street.

"Toby! What on earth are ya doin', lad?!"

"We gotta go to the market, mum! If we don't get all the new supplies now, Mrs. Mooney will get the jump on us and soon, we'll 'ave lost! We need ta get the shop the new booze and meat as soon as we can!"

"I didn't mean right now, Toby!" She tried to pry his hand off their hold on her sleeve.

"It won't be long! And I'll carry everything, mum! Please!?" He begged and looked up at Mrs. Lovett with pleading eyes knowing she would falter.

"Oh! Alright!" She huffed. "Jus' let me actually get the _money_ before we goes."

* * *

Unfortunately for both her and the boy, Mrs. Lovett didn't have time to experiment with the non-human meat before the rather "not-too-bustling" dinner "rush." However, of the customers that were present, they did order and compliment her new variety of drinks−the whiskey in particular− and even told her they would see her at dinner the next day to "try the rum next time."

But, since she unfortunately had to close early due to the lack of her old "staying-late" customers, Mrs. Lovett fortunately had time to make the new pies.

The meat she had purchased from an actual, licensed _butcher_ (and rather not from a man who _butchers_) was pork. She decided to bake it in the kitchen rather than the bake house seeing as though it wasn't a corpse so she had nothing to hide from Toby or the rest of London for that matter. She just pulled a batch of about a dozen pork pies from the oven. They actually smelled delectable!

Perhaps she would actually _eat_ one of these pies…

Then, a marvelous thought struck her: Mr. Todd hasn't had dinner yet.

Rather than have herself or Toby test one of her new pies (seeing as though she had once vowed to never eat one of her own pies and the boy to be passed out on the sofa), she decided to have the opinion of Sweeney Todd on the pies…

The bell jingled and alerted Sweeney to another's presence in the room. He assumed that it was only Mrs. Lovett finally bringing him his dinner. And assumed right he did. He turned around to face her.

"Finally." He muttered and suppressed a growl from his stomach.

"Sorry love, a bit busy I was. But 'ere ya go!" She bustled as she placed the tray on his armoire as he walked towards it.

He immediately noted that it was pie. He flicked his eyes to Mrs. Lovett's. Sweeney Todd was not amused.

"Are you trying to be funny, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Pish posh. Jus' try it, love." Actually, she was, knowing all too well what his reaction would be if she ever brought him a pie for dinner.

"Tell me then, Mrs. Lovett, what was his profession? Clerk? Marine? Piccolo player? Carriage driver?"

"_It_ didn't 'ave no such thing."

He raised an eyebrow, not knowing what she meant when she emphasized the "it."

"I'm still not eating _it_," he responded.

"Please?" She whined or rather attempted a flirt. "It's only a little measly bit o' pig."

"I know all men are pigs, Mrs. Lovett." She growled at his obliviousness and finally gave up the little charade. It seemed he was now toying with her rather than the other way around.

"It's bloody pork from the butcher's, Mr. Todd!" Mrs. Lovett waved her hands in the air. Clearly, she was now no longer amused at the smug Sweeney Todd.

"And since when did you start using more…_ethical_ meats, my dear?" He toyed.

"Since Mrs. Mooney 'as been stealing all me customers with her apparently blooming, fucking business!" She ranted as she began pacing the room. Mr. Todd eyed her and smirked at her tantrum and how childish she seemed to be acting: it was just a pie shop!

"And?"

"Thought I'd try something' new! And Toby suggested new meat so I let 'im drag me to get some! Ugh! I really hate that woman!"

Damn meddling boy! He should slit Toby's throat for attempting to put Sweeney out of the meat-providing business!

"So, will ya trying the fucking pie or not?" She said crossly looking at Mr. Todd.

"No," he smirked at her. And that was all it took for the fuse in her current fuming mind to snap.

Mrs. Lovett grabbed the tray off his armoire and was storming out the door. But, just before she slammed it shut, she picked up the pork pie and threw it at Mr. Todd's face.

Sometimes, her temper could rival even that of Sweeney Todd's.

* * *

As March had ended and April began its routine, those first few days of April marked a rather spectacular boom of business for Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium. In other terms, the pork pies were a great success! (Not to mention the variety of alcohol as well.) Her customers were back with a newfound vigorous appetite for her new "ethical" pies (no thanks to Sweeney Todd she had to take a chance and serve them to a customer to test them the following morning when some foreigner came in thinking she was open for breakfast: she served him nonetheless). Yet, even though Mrs. Lovett's business seemed to be back to its fullest potential, that didn't mean Mrs. Mooney's was down and out. No. In fact, both pie markers' shops were equal to one another: customers would have lunch at Mrs. Mooney's and then dinner at Mrs. Lovett's and vice versa the following day. They were matched, much to _both_ women's dismays.

It was a Sunday afternoon. Due to common "law" (not necessarily law but nevertheless obeyed as if it were one), shops were to remain closed if you could afford to; thus, Mrs. Mooney and Mrs. Lovett had to cease their rivalry for that day…and that day only.

Mrs. Lovett was busy at the counter in her shop preparing the pork pies, cleaning, and writing a grocer list to give to Toby for him to run tomorrow morning. She was just finished there and was about to head to the bake house to make the "other" pies (seeing as though they were still just as popular as their counterparts) when she heard the jingle to her shop. She turned on her heels to face her rival, Mrs. Mooney.

"Why hello there dearie! I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in to see how the famous Mrs. Lovett is doing!" Mrs. Mooney cheerily (and rather arrogantly with obvious sarcasm) announced as she strolled through the shop to Mrs. Lovett.

"Quite fine meself, dear! What about yaself, Mrs. Mooney?" Mrs. Lovett responded with just as much feigned cheeriness as her rival.

The two women just stared each other down. They never flinched and remained as still as a statue. An awkward silence was looming throughout the air.

"Well, what exactly did _you_ want?" Mrs. Lovett finally responded coldly.

"I want _you_ to close _your_ damn business like it should have been back in August! Back when _I_ was _top_ pie baker and _you_ just barely saw one customer a month!" She spat.

"'Ow dare _you_! I've a nice _respectable_ business now! And at least _I_ don't use pussycats and toast!" Mrs. Lovett countered.

"How dare _you_, Mrs. Lovett! And _I_ do not use such sordid things for _my_ pies! At least _I_ don't use common _lard_!"

"Why you bitch!"

"_What_ did you call me?" Mrs. Mooney looked as though she were to explode.

"Ya 'eard me, _bitch_." It appeared as though Mrs. Lovett had already lost it.

The next thing either rival knew, Mrs. Mooney had pounced Mrs. Lovett. Due to her quite obvious shock, Mrs. Lovett knew not of what to do: she hadn't even registered that Mrs. Mooney had decided to attack her. Mooney, having rather sharp nails, slapped Mrs. Lovett across the face, causing Mrs. Lovett's cheek to slightly ooze some blood. Lovett countered with a slap of her own. Mooney punched her in the eye as Lovett kicked her legs attempting to cause the "bitch" to stumble to the ground, but all was for naught. Mooney decided to do the same and caused Lovett to tumble backwards, hitting her head against the counter. Quickly composing herself, Mrs. Lovett drew herself up and pushed Mooney backwards only to be kneed in the stomach. Mrs. Lovett was just about to take a knife from the counter either to threaten Mooney to stop or to even kill her (but she quickly disregarded that idea for she knew it would mean prison since the two women were known to be rivals and hate each other). Then, the front door opened.

"Ladies ladies! Stop this nonsense please!" Said the unknown voice of a man that had just walked in.

Mrs. Lovett and Mrs. Mooney did just that and merely stared at the man.

"That's much better. Mrs. Mooney, I think you should be leaving now," he continued.

"I will not, sir!" She attempted to punch Mrs. Lovett one more time in the face before the man had intercepted her fist with his own mere seconds before it would have made contact with Mrs. Lovett's already bloody and bruised face.

"Please, madam. I do not wish to call the constables on you," he said as he stood in front of Mrs. Lovett still grasping Mooney's hand. Mrs. Mooney's grip relaxed and she walked away and out of Mrs. Lovett's shop in a huff.

"And are you alright, Mrs. Lovett?" The man turned to face Nellie. He was quite handsome indeed (maybe not as much as her barber but still very stunning). She placed a hand on her face to stop the blood from flowing out of her system.

"Yes, sir. I'll be a'right. Thank ya, by the way. I really thought she 'ad me," Nellie said.

"You are very welcome, Mrs. Lovett," he bowed. What a gentleman! "But I think you'd better let me tend to your wounds if I may. I have studied some aspects in the medical field so you'll be in quite safe hands; well, only if you'll take my word for it."

"I am quite a'right, sir. Nothing a little water can't cure."

"Actually, Mrs. Lovett, I believe some rubbing alcohol might work better seeing as though you have some dirt in your skin now. I have some on me as of right now."

"Well, alright then," she moved her hand and was motioned to sit down at one of her booths. The man walked over and brought out some rubbing alcohol from his pocket.

"The name's John Wickham, by the way. I was just on a stroll when I saw your shop and tried seeing if it was open per chance and saw you being attacked by none other than Mrs. Mooney! So I just had to rush in and help. Being a Christian and all, I thought I was doing the mighty right thing!" John exclaimed as he began to apply the alcohol to Mrs. Lovett's face. She flinched a bit due to its stinging sensation indicating that there was indeed dirt in the cuts.

"Well, Mr. Wickham, I thank ya very much again fer what ya did back there. And for right now. You sir are a Christian indeed for 'elping me out. Not many men left like you in this world," she began her chatter.

"Yes indeed, Mrs. Lovett. And that's why I try," John smiled at her compliment. "There we go. That should do it." He had just finished with the rubbing alcohol.

"Thanks again, Mr. Wickham."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Lovett. And I'll leave you this bottle. Make sure you apply it every so often to keep the wound clean and it'll eventually heal and not scar. As for your black eye, it'll go away with time. I'm sorry there's nothing I can do for that," John sounded sincere.

"That's quite fine, dearie. Thanks very much," she said as she got out of the booth. Mr. Wickham began to make his way for the door.

"It was nice to actually get to meet you, Mrs. Lovett. I have only heard so much about you but never had the chance to grace your acquaintance until just now. Good day," said John Wickham as he bowed and was gone.

Mrs. Lovett started to waltz towards her room thinking about how nice Mr. Wickham was and how much she wanted to kill Mrs. Mooney. She clutched her head as a massive headache started to come on probably due to hitting her head against the counter. Once she got into her room, she turned off the candles that were lighting her room and plopped down on her bed right in the middle and started to doze off. The pain, however, kept her awake. At least it was dark so her head wasn't nearly pounding as much as it was when she walking to her room in the bright light. Mrs. Lovett did not know how long the time had passed but she had assumed it was hours since Mooney had attacked her for her room got darker and darker. Eventually, she fell into a heavy sleep.

The next day, however, Mrs. Lovett was in too much pain to even open shop. Her headache never went away, her cheek was constantly stinging no matter how much rubbing alcohol she applied, her stomach was reeling due to Mooney's rather hard kick, and with it all combined, she really didn't feel like moving.

Of course, she had to tell Toby what had happened when she told him they were having a day off. Toby kept pestering her to go to the doctor's but Mrs. Lovett said there was nothing a doctor could do (other than charge her for wasting his time). He eventually let it go as she went back to her room to rest. She was probably just about to fall asleep after about three hours of trying when she heard her door creak open.

"Dammit Toby! I told ya I wasn't feeling good! Go do ya chores and leave me alone," she snapped at him for now her headache was acting up again. She heard the door creaked close and breathed a sigh of relief. The next thing she knew, she felt pressure on her bed.

"Shouldn't you be working?"

Mrs. Lovett removed the arm that she had draped over her eyes and opened them to see Sweeney Todd perched on the bed next to her, his head hovering over hers.

"Shouldn't you?" She responded lightly since it was Mr. Todd of course.

"The boy said you got in a fight and I wanted to see if it was true," he teased.

"I did. Now, if ya jus' came here to make fun o' me, then ya can get your arse out of here and go do something more productive," Mrs. Lovett said.

He laid down on her bed next to her on his stomach and put an arm over her as he scooted nearer to her until his face was next to her ear.

"You know, that black eye is very becoming of you, Mrs. Lovett."

"Would you like one if it's so bloody appealing, Mr. Todd?"

And they fell asleep….in the middle of the day.

* * *

So, just a quick few notes:

I hope you can see why I think it's fun to have Mrs. Mooney look like I said she did! Secondly, I have the character John Wickham based off two very similar Jane Austen characters: George Wickham from _Pride and Prejudice_ (the Colin Firth one) and John Willoughby from _Sense and Sensibility_ (the Alan Rickman one). So, I would pitcure him as either one of those dudes or a combination of the two. As you can see, I don't like describe what a character looks like so I'll just think of actors.

And lastly, thank you!

And lastly lastly, I was watching Sweeney Todd last night, and always find it funny how before "By the Sea," Mrs. Lovett says that they need to "bring a sense of gentility to the place...maybe a boar's head or two." Since when is a boar's head suppose to be calming and loving and gentle?! I always think it's funny. Also, during "Not While I'm Around," if you look closely, you can see the title of the book that is on Mrs. Lovett's lap. It's called something "Manners." I just thought it was hilarious! Kay, buh-bye now! And this isn't some random chapter: it adds to the plot!


	9. Wickham, Ragg, and Todd

Chapter 9: John Wickham, Tobias Ragg, and Sweeney Todd

_How could she even begin to describe the stately, gentlemanly, wonderful Mr. John Wickham? _

Mrs. Lovett had awoken the next morning to find Mr. Todd already gone. A bit disappointed about that, she turned her head to look at the clock.

"Bloody fuck!" Mrs. Lovett exclaimed as she threw herself out of her bed, quickly and rather too hastily dressing and then bolting out of the door. No wonder Sweeney had left! It was nearly eleven o' clock! The pies! The bodies! The cleaning that she forgot to do two days ago in the garden part of the shop! Chaos didn't even begin to describe what was now filtering on in Mrs. Lovett's brain.

"Mum! Calm down! Everythin' is fine! I did the cleanin' and ya still got plenty o' pies from Saturday!" Toby tried to calm Mrs. Lovett down knowing all too well that if she were to stress anymore, she would just get overwhelmed and that was best to be avoided after her brush with Mrs. Mooney. Luckily, a jingle caused Mrs. Lovett to stop her frantic mutterings and busied self.

It was Mr. John Wickham!

"Why, hello again, Mrs. Lovett! I came by to enquire about your cut and eye to see if you were faring well," he nicely said.

"Well that is very kind o' you, Mr. Wickham. I am doin' just' fine! I believe the cut is all clean thanks to yer rubbing alcohol and me eye, well, that'll heal with time like ya said!" She smiled.

Toby, on the other hand, was astounded. Who was this guy? He flickered his eyes from the apparently-named Mr. Wickham to Mrs. Lovett and then back again multiple times. Wickham took note.

"Hello, lad. I don't believe we've met: I'm John Wickham," he extended a hand to Toby which the boy reluctantly shook.

"Toby, sir."

"Very fine name for a very fine lad. Is he your son, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Not by blood, but I think 'e is and even better!" She exclaimed.

"I quite understand, Mrs. Lovett! So, how are you this fine Tuesday, if I might ask?"

And the two immediately stroke up a heated conversation. It appeared as the Mrs. Lovett was matched when it came to endless babbles and chatter. Mr. Wickham asked, and rather politely, about her pie business and what not: the mere common things that two strangers would talk about to get to know one another. They laughed, too. And it was a good hour or two before Toby chimed in to get Mrs. Lovett to stop chatting and open shop.

"Oh goodness me, Mrs. Lovett. I am incredulously sorry to have distracted you from work all this time. Do forgive me," Mr. Wickham apologized.

"Oh, 'tis not ya fault, dearie! Heavens say it was mine! But, I must say, it was very nice chatting with you, Mr. Wickham," Mrs. Lovett replied as she got up from the booth they were sitting at.

"Then, I shall be off, madam," Mr. Wickham had risen and was heading towards the door. "Oh, and before I forget: I took the liberty and bought you this powder." He pulled out a pallet of a lovely white powder. "I know those aristocratic folks of the upper class use it just to appear more classy and what not, but I find it has a great use to conceal any unwanted cuts or bruises. I thought you might like it. Oh, I hope I have not offended you, Mrs. Lovett by suggesting such a thing."

"Not at all, dearie. Thank ya a million, love. I dunno 'ow ta ever repay you though," she said as she took the powder.

"Your word of kindness and thanks are all that will suffice, Mrs. Lovett," he smiled as he walked towards the door.

"Will I see ya tomorrow, Mr. Wickham?"

"Why, if doth what the lady wishes," he jeered.

"Very much, sir," Mrs. Lovett smiled.

"Then, until tomorrow, Mrs. Lovett."

"Until tomorrow, Mr. Wickham." He was gone, leaving a rather flushed Mrs. Lovett and an apparently fuming Toby behind. Mrs. Lovett started to giggle as she began to prepare for the dinner rush (seeing as though she was a bit preoccupied and missed the lunch one).

"So," Toby had said, distracting Mrs. Lovett from her much needed work.

"So what?" She turned to look at the boy.

"Who was 'e?"

"'E was just the nice man who pretty much saved me from Mrs. Mooney's attack."

"Is that all?"

"Toby! Mind yer own business! 'E's just a friend! And a rather good man! Ya don't see too much of 'is type in this world anymore. Jus' get on with ya chores," Mrs. Lovett scolded the young boy.

Toby started to scuttle away to sweep the outside of the front of the shop. As he was walking away from her, he mumbled something not too subtly under his breath:

"I _don't_ like 'im."

Mrs. Lovett heard the lad but shook it off: Toby never seemed to have any particular trust in the male gender anyway.

Over the next week, Tobias Ragg was almost about to pack up and leave Fleet Street (not that he ever would, but that's just how irritated he had become). John _Wickham_, John _Wickham_, John fucking _Wickham_! (Not that he should even be using such foul language.) He was absolutely fed up with the man! And even his beloved mum for that matter! From the moment Mrs. Lovett's was open at lunch, Mr. _Wickham_ was there: he ordered a pie (which she made sure he had a pork pie for some bizarre reason) and some rum and every time Mrs. Lovett wasn't seeing to her customers or baking more pies, she would stop and chat with her new friend, Mr. _Wickham_. And even after the lunch rush, Mr. _Wickham_ would accompany her to the market and not Toby! Then, he would bid Mrs. Lovett farewell for a while but only to show up again in the middle of the dinner rush to eat another pie. But Toby knew he was really only there to see Mrs. Lovett of course! Mr. _Wickham_!

But, who was worse: John Wickham or Sweeney Todd?

That blasted jingle had rung again all too soon! Fortunately, it was a good whole minute after Sweeney had just "shaved" his prior "customer." Damn! It was the meddling, incompetent boy! And damn! If the boy had only walked in a minute or soon earlier, Toby would have seen Mr. Todd murder in cold blood, and then, Sweeney Todd would finally get to kill the boy! Damn.

"What you want, boy?"

"I was wondering if we's could talk, sir." Toby asked shyly and as politely as he could in a vain attempt to gain Mr. Todd's almost unobtainable favor.

"Can't Mrs. Lovett help you with that, boy?' Sweeney remained with his back to Toby as he cleaned his barber's chair.

"Ya see, it's about 'er. And Mr. Wickham: but mostly about Mr. Wickham, sir!" He had finally caught Sweeney's attention−the boy knew all too well (as if by some connected force of the same hatred) that Mr. Sweeney Todd did not like Mr. John Wickham just as much as the young Tobias Ragg. Toby could tell by the first day Sweeney and Wickham had met:

"_Mr. T! Wot you doin' down, 'ere?" Mrs. Lovett gasped when Mr. Todd had come downstairs after the dinner rush rather unexpectedly._

"_Well, I _am_ hungry and _someone_ didn't bring me dinner," he nonchalantly responded as he began to rummage through the kitchen for some food._

"_Sorry, love. Me mind must 'ave been elsewhere tonight," she looked over to Mr. Wickham who sat at the booth, of course. He had stayed behind to help Mrs. Lovett clean up, much to Toby's dismay as he sat across from Wickham loathing the man as he sipped some gin. Mrs. Lovett had gotten up to help Sweeney with his dinner knowing full well the man was incapable of cooking for himself._

_Mr. Wickham "took the liberty" and got up from his seat in a very gentleman-like fashion, probably because of the new presence in the room. Mrs. Lovett took note._

"_Umm, Mr. Todd, I'd like ya ta meet a friend o' mine," she stuttered. She actually had no intention of ever introducing the two men. For some reason, she felt as though it was better not to introduce them. Intuition, perhaps?_

_Sweeney spun around to face Mr. Wickham from across the room, the counter seeming to be the only thing separating the two. Sweeney look him up and down, not knowing why, but felt an instant dislike to the man as his eyes grew cold and hard as he pierced Mr. Wickham with them. _

"_John Wickham, sir!" He extended his hand to Mr. Todd that was ignored. _

"_Sweeney Todd." _

_With that, Mr. Todd left, slamming the door nearly off its hinges, without his dinner_

"And what of him?"

Toby suddenly looked very reluctant.

"Could you perhaps _kill_ him, Mr. Todd sir?"

Sweeney was almost (and just _almost_) in complete and utter shock. Did the boy, who had until apparently just recently hated Sweeney more than anything in the world, just ask Mr. Todd to kill the man Mrs. Lovett seemed so attached to? Sweeney thought Toby to like Mr. Wickham, not hate him. Well, it appears as though he was proven all too wrong. Mr. Todd quickly composed himself.

"Toby, _killing_ is wrong, you know that." He chuckled to himself on the inside for his very absurd statement. He placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, all the while suppressing laughter. Sure, he would most definitely kill Mr. John Wickham; however: "Besides, can't you imagine how….heartbroken…Mrs. Lovett would be if he died?"

"But she won't know who done it, sir! He very well could've just died from normal things!" Toby pleaded.

"Still, Toby, Mrs. Lovett would know it was me," Sweeney muttered, mostly to himself.

"Why?"

"She just would. Leave it be, boy."

Toby shrugged Mr. Todd's hand off his shoulder and started to walk towards the door.

"But Toby, perhaps I can find ways to…get rid of Mr. Wickham in a more…legal way."

"Thank ya, sir! Sorry for buggin' ya, Mr. Todd. I'll be goin' now. Thank ya!" Toby left, bouncing with so much joy that he nearly tripped down the stairs.

Later that very same evening, just before the dinner rush for Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium was to go underway, John Wickham had waltzed into Sweeney Todd's tonsorial parlour. He was accompanied by Eleanor Lovett.

"Why hello again, Mr. Todd! Thought I'd come in for shave seeing as though you are the best barber in London, if that's alright with you that is," Mr. Wickham exclaimed rather cheerily. Sweeney motioned for him to take a seat, which Mr. Wickham obliged. Mrs. Lovett then walked up to Mr. Todd. She leant in rather close to him in order to whisper in his ear:

"Do NOT kill 'im," she profusely commanded Mr. Todd within the whisper. He responded by placing a hand on her left side of her waist and drew her in closer to whisper in her left ear:

"Will he be missed?" He asked knowing too well the answer.

"Yes. Jus' don't bloody kill 'im!"

"Is something the matter, Mr. Todd?" Wickham asked after being pretty much ignored for a good while.

"Not at all, Mr. Wickham," Sweeney said as he kept Mrs. Lovett in his grasp. He turned his head back to her, smirked, and gave Mrs. Lovett the quickest kiss he could manage on her lips and hastily turned away to begin actually shaving John Wickham.

Mrs. Lovett, however, was a bit too stunned as to what just happened. She was overjoyed! But after more analysis, as she perched herself on the chest to wait for Mr. Wickham to be done, she was actually a bit angry at Sweeney for kissing her whilst Mr. Wickham was around.


	10. Green

Chapter 10: Green

Blood splurged everywhere: from the windows, to the walls, to the floors, and to all over Sweeney Todd's stoic face. That man, whoever he was, had put up a fight, but only because Sweeney himself had made a mistake. He made the mistake of thinking about Mr. John Wickham, thus, his anger was directed not at Judge Turpin and sequentially killing the unjust, thus thus, he didn't drag the razor deep enough to kill. The man then got up and started wailing away at Mr. Todd, attempting to grab the razor (or another one from the armoire). Of course, Mr. Todd had the advantage and upper hand; however, it resulted in one bloody hell of a mess until the man finally perished.

Now, Sweeney had the troubling task of dragging or picking up the cadaver (whichever way was most "sanitary") to get it to the trap door and then down the chute into the bake house. He decided to drag it. He hit the pedal to activate the trap door in the floor. Sweeney saw only two other corpses as opposed to the five men (now six) he had killed today. He threw the sixth corpse down the chute. However, just as he was walking back to press the pedal that was constructed on the front of the barber's chair, Sweeney slid on the fresh pools of blood that nearly soaked the entire barber's shop. He tumbled to the floor…or what he thought would have been the floor: instead, he found a hole.

Quickly, Sweeney grabbed the edge of the trap door as he was now dangling in the chute. But the edge was covered with blood of course. Sweeney lost his grip and plunged into the bake house.

Luckily, he was in good health (and not dead like those who usually traveled this way) and went feet first. And even more good luck, Mr. Todd's fall was broken by the mound of corpses (much to his displeasure to sit on the dead). Yet, he was in immense pain: it was one hell of a drop (well, of course it was! it was intended to finish off his victims if they survived the throat slitting since they would land head first at great velocity).

He felt one of the corpses move. Wait! _Corpses_ don't _move_!

Sweeney abruptly got up…or tried to at least−the fall was too sudden and thus he couldn't move properly. He sufficed with rolling of the mound in the direction of the bake house door until he was on the cold (empty) floor. He turned his head to see which of his victims was still alive.

He saw Mrs. Lovett lying on the corpses, just exactly where he had landed. She was lying directly on her back with her eyes closed and a pained expression etched on her face.

"Mrs. Lovett?" Sweeney called whilst he remained where he was for he was in too much pain to move even a muscle.

"Ow." She responded very lightly; yet, Sweeney could hear the subtle mockery in her voice. She was alright.

"Why'd ya use the chute, Mr. T? There's a door ya know."

He ignored her sarcasm and finally got up with his hand clutching his lower back and the other caressing his forehead where he had banged it on the way down the chute. He started towards the door swearing rather vigorously in his mind or maybe out loud.

"Mr. T, can ya carry me ta my room please? Ya threw out my back when ya fell on me."

"No."

Mr. Todd continued to ignore her and grabbed the handle to the door.

"Git."

"What was that, pet?" Sweeney dryly teased as he spun back around after he had opened the door. He waltzed over to her and picked her up with one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders. She pecked him on the cheek as her arms wound themselves around his neck.

"See? Was that too 'ard now, Mr. Todd?" She belittled as he began to ascend the stairs.

"You missed."

"Well, if ya insist." She tried placing a kiss on his lips this time, but only to peck his other cheek as Mr. Todd rapidly turned his head away from her. He started to laugh as he finally made it to the booth that he eventually placed her down in. He made his way quickly down the flight of stairs and closed the bake house door and then returned.

"You still missed," he grinned.

"Then why'd ya move?" She was somewhat irate at him for leading her on and then purposely moving away from her.

"Because it is very amusing to annoy you, Mrs. Lovett," Mr. Todd retorted with that smug look still plastered across his face as he started back towards his shop.

She shook her head:

"I will nevah understand you, ya silly man."

* * *

The next day saw to John Wickham returning rather early to call upon Mrs. Lovett. It was Sunday, a day off from work (and a week to the day since they met); so, Mr. Wickham saw fit to spend the day with his new lady friend. As he arrived on Fleet Street and into the pie shop, he was greeted by Toby.

"'Ello, sir!"

"Why hello, Toby!" Mr. Wickham orated as he shook the lad's extended hand. "Why, I say, you seem to be acting like quite the gentleman since the last time I saw you."

"Well sir, I jus' want what's best for me mum. She likes ya so I might as well, too."

"Jolly good, son. Where is your mum, by the by?"

"Oh, she's in the parlour packing. We's goin' ta spend the day in Hyde Park today we is."

"Oh, what a shame. I just came by to see if Eleanor wanted to accompany me on a walk this morning since I was in the neighborhood for an early business meeting," Mr. Wickham sounded a tad disappointed.

"Oh John! 'Ow lovely ta see ya again so soon!" Mrs. Lovett pronounced rather loudly as she entered the shop with a large picnic basket in her hand and a quilt underneath her arm.

"Eleanor! The pleasure is all mine! But, seeing as though you have other plans, I will leave you to them! Farewell, my dear," he bowed and was about to turn to leave.

"Nonsense, love! By all means, why don't ya tag along! I've gots plenty o' food to eat!"

"I don't wish to impos…."

"Of course not, dearie! We'd be delighted if ya came ta the park with us, wouldn't we Toby?"

"Yes mum," he lied and worked out a fake smile in Mr. Wickham's direction.

"Alright then, let's be off boys!" Mrs. Lovett jaunted to the door. Mr. Wickham went to grab the basket and quilt out of her arms and then opened the door for her.

"'Ang on mum! I forgot somethin'," Toby said as he ducked back into the shop. About three minutes had elapsed and Toby came back out with Sweeney Todd at his heels.

"I thought it'd be nice ta invite Mr. Todd with us since 'e came with us last time when we went to 'ide Park," Toby chirped and went to grab Mrs. Lovett's arm and he made a loop through it, obviously as a ploy to ensure that Mr. Wickham didn't do the same.

"Mr. Todd! How good it is to see you again, my friend," Mr. Wickham jested as he bounded over to Sweeney and shook his hand.

"And Mr. Wickham. Delighted," Sweeney surprisingly responded with just as much flare and a tad bit of mockery that only Mrs. Lovett and the boy seemed to pick up. Toby chuckled to himself and Mrs. Lovett slapped his arm, scolding him that it wasn't funny and Mr. Todd's behavior was inappropriate.

Mrs. Lovett, with Toby on her arm, led the way to Hyde Park whilst Mr. Todd and Mr. Wickham trailed her from behind. After a very antagonizing silent and long walk, they made it into the middle of Hyde Park and began to spread the quilt and propped the picnic foods on plates. She sat down in the middle of the quilt. Sweeney immediately plopped himself on her right side very closely to where their thighs were brushing another. Mr. Wickham seated himself in a stately manor on her left, keeping himself at a proper distance unlike Mr. Todd. Toby, having been outwitted by the older men in terms of sitting next to Mrs. Lovett, chose to sit by his apparently new friend, Mr. Todd.

"Ain't this lovely, boys! Spending the day in the park all together," Mrs. Lovett beamed.

"Indeed it is, Eleanor!" Mr. Wickham replied to her comment. Sweeney and Toby rolled their eyes: no wonder Mrs. Lovett took a liking to Mr. Wickham−he was the only one that responded to _all_ her "chatterings," whether they were requiring a response or not!

She began to pass the food around to the men. As Mrs. Lovett was handing Mr. Wickham his plate, his hand lingered on hers a bit too long as he reached for the plate. They locked eyes as words seemed to silently pass between them. She started to giggle after she let go. Sweeney took and immediate notice to all that had gone on. When Mrs. Lovett, who seemed too much like a giddy school girl, handed Mr. Todd his plate, Sweeney began to imitate what he had just witnessed. However, Mrs. Lovett wouldn't allow it to go on as long as hers and Wickham's so she hastily brushed his hand off of hers. _What's with her!?_ Sweeney thought to himself. _She made it all too clear that she had an interest in me since the day I came back, and now, she's ignoring my subtle (and meaningless of course) gestures. Damn boy was right! She does have a fancy for Wickham! _

The four sat in silence for a while as they munched away on their food. Alright, that was a lie. Two of them sat in silence as the other two continued some endless jabbering.

Sweeney was fed up with being ignored by Mrs. Lovett and _especially_ of Wickham in general. He leaned over to Toby and spoke in a low whisper:

"It's time to initiate that plan I spoke of earlier, Toby."

"Yes sir. But, is it really a good plan?"

"Just do as I say boy!" Sweeney growled. Toby listened and got up. He was going to hate what he was about to do; but he trusted Mr. Todd (for the first and very last time only) to do what his side of the plan entailed. Toby walked until he stood in front of Mr. Wickham.

"Mr. Wickham sir, would ya mind flying the kite with me?"

"Why of course, lad! I'd be delighted. Excuse me, Eleanor. Mr. Todd." He got up as Toby fetched the kite from the bottom of the picnic basket. The two walked away from the quilt until they were barely in sight on the other end of the park.

"So, my dear," Sweeney slyly began.

"So, Mr. Todd," Mrs. Lovett mocked.

"It appears as though you have a certain fondness for a Mr. John Wickham."

Mrs. Lovett spit out the gin she was sipping from her mouth.

"Wot?!"

"Oh come now, pet. It's obvious. I wouldn't be surprised if all of London knew about it." Sweeney turned to face the rather stunned Mrs. Lovett.

"I do NOT!"

"Then what's with that flushed face?" He teased. This was much more fun than he originally thought. Pestering her was one of his ways to cure boredom, knowing full well how easy it was to annoy her.

"It's jus'….cold outside, tha's all, love," she looked away from him.

"Then you most certainly wouldn't mind if I did this…"

Sweeney pushed her to her back on the quilt as he loomed over her. His hands were pinning her arms to the side as his legs were on either side of her waist. He started to smile wickedly.

"Oh yes, _sit_ on me. No, I _don't_ mind. Because sitting on me always…."

Her mockery was cut short when Sweeney brought his lips to hers. He broke away before she had a chance to respond and leant in towards her ear:

"I always thought you had a fondness for _me_, my love."

He didn't wait for her reply as he moved back to kiss her lips. Sweeney started to press his body downwards on top of Mrs. Lovett's small frame as he deepened the kiss. It was much more passionate than the one they shared back in the alley of that restaurant; in fact, it was quite lustful on Sweeney's part. Yes, he hadn't intended to go that far at all; but the moment he pressed his lips with hers, he couldn't suppress all that was now surging through his being. Mrs. Lovett, on the other hand, merely let him do whatever he pleased, seemingly forgetting her fondness for Mr. Wickham and only thinking about that fondness for Sweeney Todd.

"Good God! Toby! Close your eyes!"

Mrs. Lovett heard Wickham's now squeaky voice. She immediately pushed Mr. Todd off of her and sprung upright, looking extremely flushed and obviously embarrassed. Mr. Wickham had seen her and Mr. Todd kissing! What was he to know think of her!? What about her and him!? _Damn you Todd!_ And it wasn't just the simple courtship kissing but some very inappropriate kissing…and in public for that matter. She was speechless.

"Mr. Todd. I believe you should apologize to Mrs. Lovett for handling her in such a very…unorthodox way. God knows _that_ is only acceptable for married persons! You should be ashamed of yourself."

Sweeney looked up at Mr. Wickham_. Really? What a pillock_…

"Well, Mr. T? Ya gonna say sorry for what ya jus' did?" Mrs. Lovett looked at him. Mr. Todd eyed her with his hands folded across his chest whilst he sat crossed-legged. He was giving her a look of_, "Really? Shouldn't you be apologizing to him for kissing someone else?"_

He knitted his eyebrows and increased his rage-filled face to attempt to show her how very mad he was with her right now. She obviously had enjoyed what he did to her as much as he did, and now, she was throwing it all away just to win Mr. Wickham's favor back (not like the git even realized what was truly going on). Sweeney stood up and began to walk away.

"I don't see anything to apologize for, Mrs. Lovett. I think you rather liked it."

He continued walking until he was halfway across the park on his way home. He looked back to see Toby trailing after him a whiles away. He waited for the more-tolerable boy. Sweeney looked back even further to see Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Wickham now engaged in a heated conversation and how adoringly she looked at Mr. Wickham. Why was she acting like that to Mr. Wickham now and not to Sweeney Todd? Wasn't she still in love with _him_?

Mr. Todd and Toby finally made it home. Both were angry with Mrs. Lovett but mostly were burning with outermost abhorrence for John Wickham. Toby entered the shop first and proceeded to slouch down into the booth. He placed his head in his arms that were perched on the table. Mr. Todd closed the door behind him and went to the cupboard where he pulled out two glasses and a bottle of rum.

"Mr. T, mum says we ain't aloud ta drink nothin' but the gin. That rum is for the customers only, sir."

"Fine. You can go thirsty then." He started to put one of the glasses back.

"On second thought, wot she don't know won't 'urt 'er." Sweeney grabbed the glass back out of the cupboard. He sat opposite of the boy and poured them their glasses of the apparently forbidden rum. They each started to down their glasses. Toby instantly spat it out.

"Eww! This ain't good like the gin is!" He started to smack his tongue to his lips to rid himself of the taste. Sweeney ignored him.

"So, you were right about Mrs. Lovett liking Mr. Wickham."

"I told ya," Toby sniffed the rum.

"And clearly you didn't keep Wickham away from us long enough."

"So?"

"The plan was for you to distract Wickham so he wouldn't be able to make any more passes at Mrs. Lovett whilst we were at the park. That is why you got me, isn't it? Knowing full well that only I could aid you in your task." Sweeney gulped the rum down in one swig.

"I did!"

"But not long enough! I was just about to convince her that….never mind."

"Convince 'er wot?"

"Drop it, boy," Sweeney snarled. "Because of you, the two are now even closer than ever."

"It's not my fault," the boy mumbled under his breath. Sweeney got up and stared down at the moping boy. He actually felt pity for him. Sweeney could empathize with what Toby was feeling now.

"Toby. Don't worry about it. I still have many more opportunities to try to change Mrs. Lovett's mind about Mr. Wickham." Sweeney left the shop for his own.

Those stirrings had come up again: stirrings or some might call "feelings" for a certain baker. Mr. Todd was pacing, but not the rhythm he normally paced to when Judge Turpin was on his mind; it was the pace he took when he was thinking of Mrs. Lovett. _What_ was compelling him to help the boy of getting rid of Mr. Wickham? _Why_ should he care about who Mrs. Lovett was interested in and seeing? Why had he been _kissing_ her lately? And why was he so fucking obsessed with these thoughts that now plagued his mind? He didn't care, he kept telling himself. He didn't care. He was only helping Toby because he deemed Wickham as suspicious for no apparent reason and wanted to merely get him out of the way so the three of 186 Fleet Street could go on with their "normal" lives. And Sweeney only had been kissing her because….well, he actually had no idea. He thought he was _only_ kissing her at the park to attempt to remind her that she was in love with Sweeney Todd and most certainly _not_ John Wickham in the attempt to get Mrs. Lovett herself to shoo Wickham away−or on a happier not, let Sweeney razor him. But, he seemed to be enjoying the kiss himself and he most certainly was _not_ in love with Eleanor Lovett. Perhaps he only enjoyed the kiss because he had forgotten what a kiss felt like these past 15 years. Yes, that was it, he thought.

And he must have been thinking a damn good amount for the darkness had finally started to encompass London: Night was here. His pacing then became even more heavily rhythmic when he heard the shop door downstairs close.

"Toby! I'm 'ome!"

Nellie scanned her pie shop for any sign of the boy so she could have someone to chat to about how lovely her day with Mr. Wickham had been. She plopped the basket and quilt down in the booth to deal with them tomorrow. She was very much tired from the long day at Hyde Park.

Nellie started on her way to the washroom to prepare for bed. As soon as she finished, she went to the parlour to check on Toby. Surely enough, the lad was sleeping soundly on the sofa. She then noticed the time from one of her clocks on the wall: 11:17. Ah well: she had a marvelous day. She then headed off to her bedroom welcoming her oncoming sleep. Heavens this bed was very comfortable! She instantly started to drift a sleep….but only to be woken before she fell into a much needed slumber, the door creaked open and then closed.

"Mr. T? That you, love?"

"Of course it's me. Who'd ya expect? _Mr. Wickham_?" He snarled with very much contempt.

She ignored him out of anger as she buried her face into her pillow. He was being a complete arse lately! Well, more some than usual! As the days drawled on, Nellie began to slowly doubt her dreamy and romantic future with Sweeney Todd. Her dreams were slowly fading as reality seemed to take their place. Nellie wasn't falling out of love with him. Never. But, she was losing hope that he would love her back. And then, whilst in the midst of those thoughts about a week ago, John Wickham appeared out of the blue. He was literally the most kindest, sweetest, and gentlest man she had ever become acquitted with. Why wouldn't she fall head over heels for Mr. Wickham? No! It wasn't as though she were in _love_ with the man! Not at all. But to finally receive such kindness back for all the kindness she gave was rather a touching thing. Especially when all a certain barber did for her was little to nothing.

But ever since today at the park, Nellie was confused.

Sweeney grunted and let himself fall into her bed on the right side. He rolled over to face Mrs. Lovett and pulled her away from her pillow into his arms, attempting to get comfortable. Although Sweeney expected her to protest considering the way she was ignoring him and believing her to be mad at him, she did wrap her arms around his neck.

"Why did you kiss me, Mr. Todd?"

He ignored her question and pretended to be asleep. She moved an arm and sort of lightly slapped his cheek. He swatted her hand away, grunted a curse, and then answered:

"Why not? Now go to sleep," he irately said.

"Well then if it means nothin'...don't kiss me then."

It pained her heart to say that. No, it more of crushed it and then obliterated it over and over again. She was on the brink of tears. Not even the bruises caused by Mrs. Mooney could compare to the pain in her chest and the lump in her throat. Sweeney, on the other hand, was clearly shocked at her for saying that. He knew she loved him (as much to his dismay). Why on earth would she say that? She should be in bliss for him kissing her. And then maybe, she would "dump" John Wickham and get on with life without him.

Now Sweeney Todd was confused.

"Why not?"

"Because…" she stuttered as her tears threatened to fall.

"Because what?"

"Because ya obviously don't care for me so why bother kissin' me!" She yelled and turned away from him.

"I _care_," he whispered into her hair as he continued to keep her in his arms.

"But ya don't _love_ me," she sounded so dreary.

Sweeney waited for a while before responding. He thought long and hard about her comment. He already told and convinced himself that he didn't. Sure, he cared for her as much as anyone cares for their friend. But that was all he thought of Mrs. Lovett as: a friend. Well yes, he had been kissing her a lot, but those were merrily ploys to get Wickham to leave for Toby's sake. Then why were all these questions and thoughts plaguing his mind!?

"No."

_Not yet…_

* * *

The following morning signaled a trip to the market since it marked the start of a new week and called for fresh supplies….and might as well browse for odds-and-ends and perhaps new dresses for the spring and thus summer. And to make this trip even more fun, Mrs. Lovett invited Mr. Wickham to go with her.

John was due any moment now (she had invited him the prior night and told him to pick her up at 9 o'clock). The door opened. However, it was the side door and not the front.

Sweeney, having anticipated her quest to the market with Wickham that morning, waltzed into the pie shop.

"Mr. Todd. What you doin' down 'ere?" Nellie nonchalantly asked. She really didn't care anymore, not when Mr. Wickham was on her mind.

"I thought I'd go with you to the market."

"That's alright, dearie. I'm goin' with John."

"I insist."

At that moment, the front door to the pie shop opened to reveal Mr. Wickham in his top hat and stately coat. He closed the door politely behind him and bowed to Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett.

"Well, it seems we have a rather chilly Monday morning, Eleanor. I do advise you to dawn a coat or shawl, my dear. Hello, Mr. Todd," he added that last part with actual…what was it? Hatred? Well, something very uncharacteristic of John Wickham. Yes, he was indeed mad with Sweeney for him kissing Eleanor.

"Mornin', Mr. Wickham. I thought I'd join you two to the market today," Sweeney wasn't asking if he could come: he was telling them he was going…whether they liked it or not.

"I suppose we should be on our way then," Nellie huffed. _Thank you, Mr. Todd! For ruining my date!_

She began to walk over to John, who had his arm extended to her expecting her to loop hers though so they could walk together. Sweeney cut her off and wrapped his arm through hers and walked her out the shop and to St. Dunstan's Square. Wickham was flabbergasted. Nonetheless, he walked after them and joined Nellie at her other side that wasn't attached to Mr. Todd.

"Let go," Nellie demanded in a whisper to Sweeney. He, of course, ignored her. She tried another tactic: "Why can't ya jus' let me and John go off ta the market?"

"I don't like him."

"Ahh, so you're jealous, Mr. T!" She grinned.

"No."

"You are."

"Am not."

"Liar!" She laughed (still in a whisper).

"Shut it, woman."

"No way!"

"Why?" He snarled and then grunted in anger. _Does she ever shut up?_

"Because you're jealous of John!"

"You know, Mrs. Lovett: I have many ways of making you shut up so you'd better do it willingly."

"Ha! Like what?" She snorted.

Luckily, they were now in the market so Sweeney was spared of answering or doing anything. She knew he wasn't going to reply anyway and started to walk to the grocer kiosk to pick up some spices and other delectable treats and what have you. She also managed to break free of Mr. Todd's hold on her and went to loop arms finally with Mr. Wickham. They of course started up their jabbering whilst they shopped. Sweeney remained close to them (or rather Mrs. Lovett).

It seemed as though they were shopping and conversing for hours to Sweeney Todd. In reality, it had probably only been 45 minutes. Wickham's and Todd's arms were full of boxes and bags of all the things Lovett had purchased while she herself remained box-and-bag-less. She led the way to another stand to browse through some coveted jewelry that she could not afford as Wickham and Todd followed. Wickham seemed fine with carry all the stuffs and donned a rather cheery face with a never-faltering smile; Todd, on the other hand, portrayed his signature scowl: his plan was clearly not working today.

Mrs. Lovett was handling a rather gorgeous and pristine string of pearls. She placed them back in their box mumbling something about only blondes looked good in pearls. She was about to pick up an emerald pendant necklace when she heard an all too familiar voice coming from her left:

"That would look rather ravishing on you, Eleanor Lovett."

Nellie spun her head to face Judge Turpin. _Fuck_…Sweeney immediately took notice to their current "company." He stepped closer to Nellie, never once breaking his gaze from the judge.

Turpin looked away from her to her companions. He brushed over Mr. Todd, not really caring to see him or rather expecting him to be there. He made contact with Mr. Wickham.

"Hello, Mr. Wickham. How are you today?" He smiled as he nodded to the other man.

"Quite fine myself, Your Honor. And you, sir?"

"Lovely, Mr. Wickham. And Mrs. Lovett, perhaps a word with you? I do believe an explanation is in order from our previous engagement." He motioned with his hand for Nellie to follow him to the adjacent alleyway. She, however, took a step back from him as Sweeney moved to stand in front of her. She drew herself closer to his back and shakily put her hands on his left arm.

"She has no need to speak to you, _sir_," Sweeney spat. He twirled around, grabbed Nellie by wrapping his left arm around her waist, and started to leave.

Nellie wrapped her arms around his left arm (seeing as though his right was clutching her shopping materials) and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, not believing she had just come face to face with the fucking judge yet again and in the market no less. Sweeney tightened his grip around her and pulled her closer to him. He turned his head to cast one last glance at two of his most hated people in the London, neigh in the world. Wickham still had Nellie's other groceries and other items but he knew that blasted "gentleman" would be around again to so "kindly" drop them off. He sneered at them, suppressed the urge to stick his tongue out at Wickham, and merely continued his jaunt back to Fleet Street with Mrs. Lovett on his arm.

* * *

Well, there ya have it. I feel as though I had much trouble getting my point across: so I'll just tell you all the gist of it since I feel all jumbled about this chapter (hope you all liked it nevertheless).

So, yes, even though he won't admit it to himself or least of all to her, Sweeney Todd is jealous of John Wickham. Because he won't admit to himself of his jealousy, he says he is merely helping Toby get Wickham to go away. In order to do that, Todd basically tried to win Lovett's heart over (without really trying to do that even) just so she'll dump Wickham. I would say those two (L and W) are in a relationship but because of the time era, they are not boyfriend/girlfriend like in comtemporary society (today's times). Keep in mind the era. Sweeney, being simple-minded and I would go as far as to call him a bit of an idiot, thinks that his stupid plan will work...I don't get it. Lovett is torn between two men now. Toby hates them both but would rather have Todd around out of familiarity and Todd was there before Toby anyway. Does this chapter make sense? I just had trouble writing it.

Thank you all for reviewing!

By the way, the original chapter title was going to be "Cock Block" but I thought that inappropraite for the time period and didn't think that name was invented until recently. Hopefully "Green" makes sense all the same.


	11. The Promise

Chapter 11: The "Promise"

Sweeney Todd and Nellie Lovett entered the pie shop, with Nellie still clutching onto Sweeney's left arm as if her life depended on it. Sweeney closed the door (with a good amount of difficulty seeing as though he didn't have either use of his arms thanks to Lovett and Lovett's packaging). He strolled to the booth, threw the items roughly on to table top, and sat Mrs. Lovett down in the seat. She let go of his arm and placed her head in her hands that were now resting on top of the table. But, she wasn't crying, just thinking.

Mr. Todd went to her cabinet and pulled out the rum and two glasses.

"Put it back."

Really? Even with her hands covering her eyes, she was able to tell that Mr. Todd took the rum and not gin out? Damn. Of course he just advanced to the booth with the rum still in hand. She didn't protest again when he started pouring their glasses. Mrs. Lovett picked her head up and eyed the rum in a lost stare as she continued thinking. Mr. Todd sat across from her, rum in hand, and never taking his eyes off of her. Mrs. Lovett took note:

"I'm fine."

"Are you?"

"I jus' thought that the bastard will 'ave left me alone by now. I thought that dinner ended everythin' and it would all be set and done with. Apparently not," she took a swig of the alcoholic beverage.

Sweeney looked at her from across the booth. She didn't look optimistic like usual but neither did she look pessimistic: she was merely indifferent to the whole situation.

"Jus' do me a favor and 'urry up and kill that bloody git before I do."

Sweeney abruptly stood up from where he sat and moved over to Mrs. Lovett. He looked down into her eyes as she looked up at him with a knitted brow and half smile wondering what he wanted.

"Now now, my dear, he is _my_ kill, not yours. I thought you knew that all _too_ well."

Mrs. Lovett started to laugh. She knew not why because there was no tease or mockery in Mr. Todd's voice−he was quite sternly serious. Perhaps as to cajole her tension that the judge caused her nearly minutes ago she started to laugh. Sweeney plopped himself down next her (luckily, Mrs. Lovett scooted to her right or he would have sat on her…again). She turned to face him and before she could register anything at all, he pressed his lips to hers.

Mrs. Lovett, although she was against him kissing her since he did not love her, actually did not object to his kiss. She knew not why, but probably because his kiss was different this time around: this kiss was slow and compassionate as opposed to his other lustful one. In fact, it was quite adorable coming from Sweeney Todd. Mrs. Lovett didn't move an inch: she kept her hands in her lap as Sweeney placed his on either one of her cheeks. Wait, now there's the Mr. Todd she was accustomed to: he pushed a little deeper into her mouth and she allowed his tongue to gain entrance. And although she detested herself for lack of self-control, she let a moan escape from her covered mouth and tongue.

But before that simple kiss turned into something that Mr. Wickham would call "unorthodox for unmarried couples to do," the bell jingled in in popped the man himself!

"Eleanor. I came to drop of your shopping articles from St. Dunstan's, my dear!" He started to the parlour, not even noticing Mrs. Lovett attempting to push Mr. Todd off of her (seeing as though he managed to push her down into the booth as he started up his _lustful_ kisses). She thought she heard Mr. Todd chuckling a bit against her mouth. Finally, she got out of his grasp due to deciding to roll under the table and then scrambled to stand up in the middle of her shop, straightening her dress and patting down her hair and dabbing her smeared lipstick off (most of which was now on/in Sweeney Todd's mouth).

"Over 'ere, John," she called to Wickham who was still in the parlour. "Get out," she whispered to Sweeney. He smirked and actually left (but only because he noticed a man walking upstairs…his first catch of the day was awaiting him).

"Eleanor! Is something the matter, my dear? You seem a bit flustered after our excursion to the market. Everything alright?" He placed her boxes and bags next to the others on the booth's table top very neatly.

"Oh yes, love. I'm fine," she said. Then, another thought struck her head: "John, may I ask if ya are on mutual terms with Judge Turpin?"

"Oh yes, Eleanor. We have been friends since childhood. Is that alright?"

"O' course, dearie. I was jus' wonderin' since he seemed to know ya when we was at the market. Jus' me bein' curious is all," she smiled at him.

"I see. Well Eleanor, 'tis unfortunate, but I must terry away now: another business meeting. Perhaps we can go to dinner sometime next week since I'll be away in Liverpool for the remainder of this week and half of the next, when you aren't busy that is?" He looked rather shy at his question, almost as if he feared her to reject him. Nellie thought about it and then lightened up, her smile ever so widening.

"Sure thing, love. Next Friday at 7 is when I can take a day fer meself."

"I will see you then, Eleanor! I shall miss you greatly! You shall constantly be on my mind! It pains me to leave you for that long, my dear Eleanor, but, duty calls." He tipped his hat and was off. Mrs. Lovett waved him away and began to walk to the side door:

Nellie decided a damn right good talk was in order between her and Sweeney Todd−she jaunted up the stairs to his barber shop. The second she opened the door, however, blood splattered and plastered itself across her face and down her dress.

Sweeney took notice and rushed to drag her in and closed the door swiftly and roughly behind them. He cursed.

"Why the….pff!..._fuck_ did ya make such a literally, _bloody_ mess?!" Mrs. Lovett yelled as she spat blood out of her mouth that she had opened when she walked in. Sweeney ignored her comment and began to lever the body into her bake house and started to clean. She grabbed one of his many rags and began to help him. After a good thirty minutes of cleaning, Nellie spoke up again, remembering why she came upstairs in the first place.

"I thought I told ya not ta kiss me if ya really don't mean it, Mr. Todd," she said dryly. He stopped cleaning the blood stained window and looked at her.

"I will if you stop enjoying it."

"I mean it, ya bastard."

"Fine."

Sweeney mumbled with a slip of disappointment as he turned to cleanse the window again. Yet, Sweeney actually had no intention of doing what Mrs. Lovett asked…why start now?

* * *

Nellie had learned at her and Wickham's dinner date that following Friday night at seven that John Wickham frequently took business trips to various cities and ports around England, and even occasionally across the Channel to some towns along France's coast. He was a stock broker and his clients lived throughout the country or out of it so he took the liberty to visit them (seeing as he could afford it).

Dinner was quite casual (not like some judge or other showed up) but it was the loveliest Nellie had been to in quite some time. Actually, it was the greatest dinner date ever! It was quaint and cozy but very romantic with lots of fancy wines that even Nellie couldn't afford (and that's saying something). After they finished eating and Wickham paid their dinner bill, they left with Nellie linking arms with John. They knew not of the time when they arrived back at 186 Fleet Street; however, Sweeney Todd could probably tell them it was half-past midnight.

"Well Eleanor, my dear, I had a lovely time tonight."

"Oh John! 'T'was the best night o'...me…life!" Nellie exclaimed as she almost fell over due to her heavy level of wine in-take that night.

"Mine too. I think you should get to bed: you had a little too much wine," he laughed a bit.

"Well, I 'ad…ta….since ya's weren't drink' none…I 'ad ta….drink fer the both…o' us," Nellie laughed. She wasn't that drunk, she told herself, but everything just seemed a whole lot more laughable to her.

"Good night, Eleanor," John said as he bowed to Nellie. "May I kiss you?"

Nellie stopped her laughing and stared at the gentleman before her: never before had she met such a man, asking her for a mere kiss (whereas some man upstairs just plants them on her without warning or approval), aiding to her when she needed help, and just being the kindest man or even human in this corrupt and sinful world.

"You may."

He leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Nellie almost squealed with joy: he was such the gentleman! She leaned in a bit more to prolong the kiss and placed her hands on his chest as he awkwardly placed his arms around her middle back and drew her in closer. He was very gentle and compassionate about the kiss. He pulled away after a good two minutes and released Nellie from his embrace. They stared at each other for a while.

"That was marvelous! Good night then, Eleanor! And may we have many more dates to come."

And John Wickham was gone.

Nellie, still standing in front of her front door, twirled around a few times in pure and childish delight. When her euphoria faded, she opened her door and skipped into her shop. She started for her bedroom.

"Well, well, we are a bit late now, aren't we, Mrs. Lovett?"

Mrs. Lovett spun on her heels to spot Mr. Todd sitting in the booth in her pie shop. _Bugger! 'Ow long 'as 'e been there!?_

"I am not a _child_, Mr. Todd. I don't need ya tellin' me 'ow late I can stay out or not. Besides, it's _my_ 'ouse!" She huffed and then turned to go to her room. He got up and started to follow her. Once she got into her room, Sweeney closed the door behind them. Nellie went to her dresser in the vain attempt at getting into her nightgown:

"Stop it, _Todd_."

"You know, _Lovett_, you never specified where I wasn't allowed to kiss you."

He had his arms around her in a sort of lock to ensnare her possible escape attempt. His mouth was clasped on her neck. He started to drag her to the bed.

"Fine, Todd, you are not allowed to 'ave your mouth against any part of my _body_," she teased. He immediately stopped his nipping on her neck and collarbone. But, he kept his tongue out, ensuring that his mouth wouldn't touch her neck, and glided it down her neck.

SMACK!

Sweeney fell onto the bed due to the force of Mrs. Lovett's smack. He was amused as she stood looking at down at him very un-amused.

"That goes for ya tongue as well, prat."

"Fair enough. But…" he got up and grabbed Mrs. Lovett and pushed her onto the bed and got on top of her. "…as I recall, the _head_ is not part of the body."

And he kissed her…again. However, this time, he wasn't initiating a plan to take her mind off of Wickham or any of those failed attempts and stupid ideas. He was merely kissing her because, well, he could.

After a good long while of never faltering (frantically lustful) kisses, Sweeney broke away to see the expression etched on Mrs. Lovett's face: it was just her normal cheery smile.

"When ya gonna stop kissing me then?" She sighed in defeat.

"Never." He started kissing her lips again then stopped to move to her ear: "I love kissing you."

"Oh, so you 'ave…urges?" She teased as she ruffled her hands though his hair (purposely messing it up) as he started up at latching his mouth and tongue to her neck and even further down again.

"Shut up, Nellie."

"Ahh, thinkin' with your…."

"Mrs. Lovett….shut up!"

* * *

When Nellie awoke the next morning at about the crack of dawn (thanks to some noisy prostitutes over in a nearby alley), the first thing she noticed was that she was alone. Of course, that bastard Todd always left before she awoke herself. She stretched as she rose from her bed and strolled over to her vanity to start the process of getting dressed. The second thing she noticed in the mirror was a small line of purple marks trailing from just under her jaw all the way until her right breast. _They_ were hardly noticeable. But, (always a but), there was a rather profound "love bite" on her upper right breast. _That_ was noticeable, especially in the dresses she normally wore.

"Damn ya, Todd. Bloody git of a man did it on purpose too I bet…" she muttered to herself. "Well, 'e won't be too thrilled when he (and John) don't _see_ it."

She ruffled through her wardrobe and pulled out a less-revealing-dress. It was an uppercut one that only exposed her collarbone but ensured that it did not show any cleavage with a little ribbon on the front that tied it together in the front rather than the back. She also decided to leave her hair down seeing as though if she wore it to the side, she could cover the trail. She grinned at her triumph and finished getting ready…

"Mornin' love: brought ya some breakfast."

Sweeney grunted in response as he continued to stare off into space at his window pane. Knowing he wouldn't turn around to face her, Mrs. Lovett stood next to him and motioned for him to grab his food rather than merely setting it down like she normally did. He turned to gruffly take it from her. And just as she predicated, Mr. Todd took instant note of her dress (or well, bosom as to where his mark should have been gallivanting itself to the public…and John Wickham).

"What are you wearing?"

"A dress."

He raised his brows and set the tray on his armoire. He faced her again, now with a sly grin. And he then took the ribbon on the front of her dress and twirled it through his fingers as he kept his eyes fixated on hers.

"Since when did you become so, _shy_, my dear?"

"I'm sure _you_ can guess when, love."

He kept at the laces on her bodice and maintained eye contact with her. Occasionally, he let his fingers purposely and exaggeratedly brush across her chest, out of enjoyment for himself and also to piss her off. And it seemed to be working:

"Ya damn well know that I am currently seeing John Wickham. If 'e were to know all that you 'ave been doin', I daresay that'll start somethin'….stop it."

Todd ignored her aimless chatter and started pushing her back towards his barber chair. He was still having much trouble with the tight laces on her front. Although Mrs. Lovett protested all that Mr. Todd was doing, other than her furious remarks, she didn't lash out or anything of that sort. He pushed her into a sitting position in the chair and bit the lacey ribbon off on her chest that held back her cleavage and his "precious" mark. Luckily for Mrs. Lovett and unluckily for Mr. Todd, all that her now ripped dress exposed was the love bite and a normal amount of her chest that she usually exposed as in all of her other dresses. Sweeney grunted and moved to roughly kiss her lips as he straddled her in the chair. Her hands found their way to secure themselves around his neck as his gripped the back of the chair on either side of her head. One of his legs was still positioned on the floor.

He hit the pedal.

Mrs. Lovett screamed as the chair slid onto its back and straightened out. She was sliding off the chair and into the trap door. Well, she most certainly would have if not for Sweeney's hands being where they were. Even though they were barely hanging onto the barber chair in its deadly reclining position, he still continued to kiss her. And he also started to chuckle quite devilishly at their current predicament. Mrs. Lovett bit his tongue and he tore away. She immediately clasped her hands on his vest to prevent herself from slipping even more.

"Mr. Todd!" She yelled at him.

"Mrs. Lovett," he mocked her as he hit the lever again to proper the chair into its normal state, causing her to slide abruptly back into the chair whilst he fell off of it. That damn sly grin never once left his face.

She stood up fanning out her skirts and "straightened" her hair out. She gave Mr. Todd the most displeased and ferocious glare she could.

But she failed and laughed a bit that more of came out as a snort.

"I hate you."

She started towards the door.

"If that _was_ _true_, Mrs. Lovett, then maybe I would stop kissing you. But for now, consider that our last kiss. Unless of course…"

She slammed the door and was off to start the day.

* * *

Providentially, Nellie remembered the powder Mr. Wickham had given to her to cover her long-gone black eye: she applied it to Sweeney's "very generous" mark (thanks to the bastard, he had ruined her only non-revealing dress since he bit the lace off).

However, that was nearly two months ago…

And Sweeney actually stayed true to his word and not once did he kiss Eleanor Lovett. He even stopped sleeping in her bed for the most part, unless it was a particular chilly evening or he was uncomfortable elsewhere (probably in order to ensure he wouldn't kiss her). Nellie minded his absence, however even though she shouldn't. And so did he.

It was now the end of June.

John Wickham frequented Mrs. Lovett's nearly every day, save some weeks when he had business out of town. He started to bring her flowers−red roses to be more exact−at the start of every week. And he brought her boxes of chocolates at the end of the week for her to devour over the weekend. Every Saturday and Sunday he would then take her out to all the fanciest restaurants London had to offer. In between her lunch and dinner rushes, John would take Nellie on a walk to Hyde Park and sometimes the market. They were becoming quite close.

And Mr. Sweeney Todd could not stand one ounce of it!

But apart from that abhorrent "relationship" that was now dwindling between John _I'm-going-to-fucking-kill_ Wickham and _his_ Eleanor Lovett, everything for Sweeney Todd, Eleanor Lovett, and Tobias Ragg, all of 186 Fleet Street remained all the same. Business was booming for the two per usual. Mrs. Mooney seemed to be put back in her proper place as just some other, second-rate pie shop that "gave the stomach cramps to half the neighborhood." Oh, and still no judge for Sweeney to amass revenge upon.

However, Sweeney did experience something unusual: and that something greatly pissed him off…other than Wickham that is. One of his prized and precious razors was missing. _What the fuck? Where did I put it? Did someone steal it? No. No one comes in here whilst I'm not in here. Not even Mrs. Lovett and especially not the boy. Did I drop it in the bake house by accident? No! I'm more careful and precise than that! _Those were only some of the thoughts that swarmed in Mr. Todd's unstable mind. But, after maybe a week of looking, questioning, and even interrogation of Lovett and Ragg, Todd gave up. He still had six of his friends left and besides, he really only used one or two and let the others rest. Life could go on without one of his razors by his side…

Two whole months (give or take a few days)…

"Eleanor, I was wondering perhaps if you would like to accompany me on my next business trip to Brighton on Thursday?"

The two seemingly romantic couple of John and Nellie were walking in Hyde Park, arm-in-arm. She stopped dead in her tracks.

"B-B-Brighton?"

"Yes. Is something the matter, my dear?"

"Brighton is…by…by the sea," she stuttered, not believing what she was hearing.

"Of course, darling. Isn't that where you always wanted to go? You told me that when we first met," he smiled at her.

"R-really?" She still couldn't believe. Was one her dreams finally coming true?

"Yes. I thought that since my next trip was in Brighton, and how you've always desired to see the seaside again, I thought it would nice to invite you. It would make me profoundly happy and I hope it will make you happy, as well." He continued to smile at her.

"Y-ye….Yes!" Nellie threw her arms around his neck, pecked his cheek a few times and started to dance around out of pure joy! He twirled her around a few times and gave her a long kiss on the lips.

"Well, I shall pick you up Thursday morning with horse and buggy! And then, it's off to Brighton for two weeks!"

When Nellie arrived home to 186, she burst through the door to her shop in song! Never before had she experienced full bliss and happiness. And what matters even more perfect other than finally going to the sea again, Thursday was only a day away with it being Tuesday today: only one day to wait. _And all good things come to those who wait_…

"Bugger. The shop…the boy…the damn barber…"

Nellie stopped her little dance of happiness at those thoughts. If she were to be on leave for two weeks, her customers would truly be getting unruly if there were no world famous meat pies for them to devour for two whole weeks. But, they could wait just as she had. And Toby, well, the lad could surely use a break and two weeks will be plenty for him to relish and relax doing whatever for that long.

But Mr. Todd…well, the bastard would be slaughtering and barbering of course, that was for sure. Yet, the bodies would inevitably pile up since Mrs. Lovett wouldn't be there to chop them into pies. Well, Mr. Todd could surely do it himself or put his killings on hold for two weeks.

It didn't matter to her: Eleanor Lovett was going to the seaside with John Wickham and that was that.

Wrong…oh, she was wrong...

Wednesday had come and gone with the rushes, the last two lunch and dinner rushes Mrs. Lovett and Toby would be attending to for the next two weeks. Toby was busy cleaning everything down after dinner and Mrs. Lovett had just finished packing. Now, she had to tell Sweeney Todd where she was going to be for the following two weeks. She knew not why, but she had put off telling him until tonight. Tonight being the last possible chance she would get to tell him. Oh, procrastination is a virtue…

"Mr. T, can I speak ta ya for a second?" Mrs. Lovett asked Mr. Todd as she stepped into his parlour and closed the door behind her. He was standing by the stove pouring the tea she had brought up before the dinner rush had commenced.

"Do I have a choice?" She ignored his smart response and spoke anyway.

"I am going to be 'eading to Brighton fer the next two weeks with Mr. Wickham and thought ya should know. So don't be killin' any more unless you plan on clearing up the evidence."

She wasn't exactly asking his permission to go (why would she?). But the way she spoke those lines, it certainly seemed that way.

"No." He turned to face her and put the kettle back down and advanced her, slowly backing her into the door.

"_No_?" She exasperated.

"Exactly, my love."

"That's nice, dear. But I'll be going to the sea with John no matter what ya say," she said sternly with her hands on her hips.

"I forbid it."

"Ya _forbid it_? Ha! Don't make me laugh, Mr. Todd! You can't tell me what ta do!" She laughed.

"I _can_ and I _will_. You are _not_ to go to Brighton with Wickham and that's final," Sweeney yelled.

Mrs. Lovett glared daggers at him. In fact, she was about to lose her temper with him. Sweeney seemed to be doing the same thing.

"Why not!?"

"Because, you have only known that man for two months and now, he is taking you to Brighton of all places?! Besides he knows the fucking judge!"

"As do I, Mr. Todd and as do you!" Mrs. Lovett bellowed as Mr. Todd merely continued:

" No. I don't _care_ if Brighton is a seaside town, and I _especially_ don't care what you think or feel of Wickham, but I don't _trust_ that town and _especially_ don't trust that man. Therefore, you are _not_ going." He had her backed into the door and had his hands on either side of her head. He bore into her eyes. She looked as though she was about to cry.

No. Instead, Mrs. Lovett leaned forward, put her hands on his face, and kissed him on the lips. Sweeney was instantly taken aback and even took a step back instead. He decided though to wrap his arms around her waist as she led him across the room and backed him into the wall. Before Sweeney could deepen the kiss, Mrs. Lovett broke away.

"Consider _that_ our last kiss, Sweeney Todd. I'll _sea_ ya in two weeks." She kneed him in his groin to distract him as she bolted out of his shop and down into the bake house to dispose of his damn evidence before she went to bed.

Nothing was going to stand in her way of her dream to go to the sea. Even the man she loved, Sweeney Todd. No. _He_ was the obstacle that hindered her dream and _he_ wasn't down and out yet…

Mrs. Lovett had just begun hacking away at a rather plump corpse when the bake house door creaked open to reveal Sweeney Todd. He looked rather pissed.

"You, Nellie Lovett, are _not_ going to Brighton with that man, and that's then end of it. I'll see you in the morning," he turned to leave.

Sweeney closed the bake house door behind him and locked Mrs. Lovett in.

CLANK!

"Wot are ya doin', Todd! Let me out!" She screamed through the closed iron wrought door after she had thrown the cleaver at it…well, at Sweeney more likely.

"Just taking precautions, my pet."

He wanted to laugh at her but found it inappropriate. They were not initiating a game like they used to before Wickham came into their lives. No. He was angry at her for even thinking she was going away with that bastard of a man and angry at the bastard himself for attempting to whisk away Sweeney's Lovett. Sure, he had just crushed her dream. But he deemed it worth it and necessary. Something was off about Wickham even though Sweeney couldn't exactly place what was off. In his eyes, Mrs. Lovett was safe, even though he knew not what from or even why. Maybe he was merely jealous, but, oh well.

Now, Sweeney had to tell Wickham himself Mrs. Lovett was not going to Brighton. That would be easy.

And he did just that.

Wickham was very displeased.

"I am very…._sorry_…Mr. Wickham, but Mrs. Lovett has worked herself into….a fever," Sweeney muttered to Mr. Wickham after he had managed to locate his house (he had at one point walked Mrs. Lovett there for one of her dates). _Well, fever rhymes with cleaver, and it is rather hot in the bake house so…_

"Oh, that is a downright shame, Mr. Todd. But surely she'll recover soon. I was so looking forward to our excursion to the sea," Wickham sighed.

"Indeed it is. She just wanted me to let you know," he lied and then turned away to leave.

Meanwhile, Nellie was locked in her own bake house. After she had heard Sweeney's footsteps fade away, she fell to her knees on the stone cold floor and began to sob furiously.

"Damn ya…Todd," she sniffled in between sobs. "I hate you."

She didn't mean it; how could she? She was too much in love with him to hate him. She could say it all she wanted, but it was just meaningless words that had no essence. She hated herself for loving him. She hated the fact that one of her dreams was ruined by the other.

She knew crying never solved anything but also knew she couldn't stop now that she was so worked up. Yet, she drew herself up, picked up the newly dent cleaver, and went back to the work table with that fat cadaver still on it. She didn't precisely cut the body according to how she normally would when she was going to bake it into a pie. No. She brought the cleaver down and began to psychotically chop it into mincemeat. Blood splattered everywhere and soaked Nellie head to foot. Blood and tears mixed on her distraught and lunatic-like face.

How fortuitous…there were still four bodies left…

Nellie heard a click and turned her head in the direction of the door.

"You are free to leave the bake house now, Mrs. Lovett."

She threw the cleaver at him once more with much force and velocity that she didn't even know she possessed. Sweeney dodged it, but only just: it grazed his right cheek and lodged itself in one of the stairs behind him. The cut now embedded on his face started to trickle down his cheek. That was new−it wasn't usually his blood that ended up on his face.

Mrs. Lovett ran out of the bake house amidst Mr. Todd's distraction of his own blood. She ran straight to her room and started crying again.

* * *

It had been a full week without talking. For the majority, Mrs. Lovett kept to her room unless she needed to use the washroom or sneak into the kitchen for some sustenance (which she only did once a day and hardly ate anything at all). Today, she managed to evade Toby and Todd and went out for a breather to St. Dunstan's. She almost considered renting a carriage and heading to Brighton herself, but alas, she would have to go back to Fleet Street for her money and luggage and surely the boys would have spotted her. She hadn't intended to ignore Toby but it seemed to end up that way. He eventually got the gist and gave up forcing her to talk; yet, he would still hover around her the second she opened her door, the rare occasion that was. Sweeney Todd, on the other hand, seemed to become a regular in her parlour which her bedroom door had the unfortunate to be placed against. Occasionally, when he wasn't peering at her door, Mrs. Lovett would throw one of her knick-knacks from her room at him and then retreat back into her room and locked the door behind her. He would then attempt to get into her room but to no avail. He couldn't even get in there at night like he used to.

"Nellie…"

She stopped dead in her tracks. She swore rather profusely in her head at _his_ voice. Just when she thought _he_ was out of her hair, there _he_ was in front of her.

"Go. Away." Those were her first words that week. She turned around to walk the opposite way when Sweeney grabbed her wrist. She gave him a contemptuous scowl.

"I'm sorry."

"No you ain't."

He moved his grip on her wrist to hold her hand and started to drag her back home. She didn't protest due to his strength.

Sweeney sat her down in the middle of the sofa when they arrived back in her parlour at 186 Fleet Street. She let her head droop and then he kneeled in front of her and placed his hands on either of her knees. That caused her to look into his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he repeated (and tried to make himself sound even more sincere even though he wasn't actually sorry).

"…"

"Look, I didn't want you to go because I was….jealous," he whispered that last part.

"What was that, dear?" She heard him.

"I'm jealous, alright!" He averted his gaze and started to stare meaninglessly into the unlit hearth of the fireplace.

"Well, that's nice, love. But that still don't give ya no right to lock me in the bake 'ouse or "forbid" me from goin' with John." She almost started to cry again for the mere thought of not going again, but she held her tears at bay.

"Fine."

"_That's it?_ Well, I see no more reason ta talk ta ya then!" That man was so irritating! And bloody well confusing! Mrs. Lovett made her way to stand up in order to retreat back to her room but Sweeney's grip on her knees tightened so she remained on the sofa. _Bastard_…

"Wait. I wasn't finished…" he seemed reluctant to go on. In truth, although he would never admit it to her let alone himself, he desperately wanted to make amends with her.

"Go on then." She was quite curious as to what that bastard was thinking.

"_I_ will be the one to take you to the sea…_not_ Wickham. He has no right to be doing that. _Only_ I can take you there. You got that, Mrs. Lovett?"

Mrs. Lovett was about to cry: but not out of tears of sorrow but out of tears of pure happiness.

"W-w-what?"

"You heard me, woman."

"Ya promise?" She stuttered as a few tears escaped.

"Sweeney Todd doesn't make _promises_. That is something Benjamin Barker did. No. Sweeney Todd makes threats," he half-heartedly joked. "No. I _threaten_ that I will take you to the sea."

"R-r-really?"

"Of course, my love. But only after my revenge is complete. After that though, I _threaten_ to take you to the sea either for a visit or we can live there. Whatever you want."

She put her hand on his right cheek. It was then that she noticed there was a long cut: a cut that her cleaver had make about a week ago. She traced its length with her finger.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to, Mr. T."

"Yes you did. But I deserved it," Sweeney chuckled a bit. "It was quite funny."

Later that very same evening, it being another Thursday literally a week after she _should_ have been at Brighton with Mr. John Wickham, Nellie Lovett found herself in her bake house "disposing" of Mr. Todd's "customers." There were only two probably due to the fact that Sweeney spent most of the day with Mrs. Lovett on the sofa until she opened only for the dinner rush and that's when he had made his kills. Anyway, Nellie had just finished putting the meat into the grinder for tomorrow morning when she heard the bake house door open.

"Toby! I told ya, ya ain't allowed down 'ere!" She was slightly panicking but only slightly: there was nothing down there as of now that would give her away; there were no apparent corpses, the bones were all in bags out of sight, and the blood would quickly be regarded as animal blood and not human. Yet, she still fretted out of habit more than anything.

However, it was not Tobias Ragg who entered that godforsaken bake house. And nor was at Sweeney Todd on one of his rare ventures down there. No.

It was John Wickham…

"John! Ya nearly put me off my rocker! What are you doin' back so soon?" Nellie exasperated. She was glad it was him and not Toby. Wait! No she wasn't! It was just as bad for him to be there now as it would have been for the lad. Nellie quickly composed her practicality. "Let's get upstairs then and we can 'ave a nice cuppa tea."

She started to walk forwards but he closed the door behind him to where it wasn't exactly closed all the way but just enough to get his point across.

"John?"

He ignored her and stepped forward with a glint in his eyes that Nellie would instantly deem foreign to John Wickham. It was a glint no different than the one Sweeney Todd gave to his customers before he silenced them for eternity.

* * *

Oh fuck...a cliff-hanger! I don't have time for much AN's but THANK YOU ALL TO REVIEWING! I just wanted to hurry and finish this and get it up but now I gotta go!


	12. The Truth Will Out

Chapter 12: The Truth Will Out…

It was a glint no different than the one Sweeney Todd gave to his customers before he silenced them for eternity…

_No, he ain't gonna do that…no…Then why is he looking at you like that, Lovett...He's just drunk or something…Don't lie to yourself, you daft woman. You've seen that look before….No I haven't…Stop with the lying. Mr. T gave you that look once and pressed a razor against your throat, and then even ranted on about slitting more throats until he gets to the bloody old judge, don't deny it…I will deny it…You won't be saying that once he makes his move…Shut up!_

Nellie Lovett took a step back into her bloody work table out of pure instinct. Wickham, however, kept his ground in front of the slightly protruding door. Never once did he avert his dark and murderous gaze away from her. And not once did she falter.

"John…" she remained her composure even though her instincts beckoned her to be scared out of her wits and get the hell out of there. He kept his eyes fixated on hers as he finally took just one step forward from the door. He brought forth his other leg and clicked his boot to the other. He had his hands secured behind his back.

And in the eleventh hour, John Wickham proceeded to speak:

"Did you ever wonder why I had the rubbing alcohol on my person when we first met, Eleanor?"

"Wh-what?" She squeaked.

"I thought not," he snorted a bit as his uncharacteristic smirk grew from ear to ear. He took one step forward and clicked his boots again. Nellie instinctively would have taken one step back but was inhibited by that damn table. Thankfully, as her senses told her, he was still at a safe distance away. He continued:

"It was because I knew Mrs. Mooney was going to initiate that cat-fight with you," he boasted.

Seeing as though she was speechless but also immensely curious just as he predicted, he continued:

"And how did I know she was to attack you?" He waited for dramatic effect.

"How?" Nellie was enthralled as to what he was on about. She was frightened of course due to that foreboding glint in his eye; yet, she desperately desired to know more. He continued:

"Because I told her to."

"You…_what_?" She was confused. He continued:

"And how did I get her to comply with my demanding request? Well, I supplied her with the money she needed to become your rival again. Obvious really….well, for a genius such as myself," Wickham started to maniacally laugh. Nellie just stared at him blankly. He continued:

"Yes. In order for me to manipulate Mooney into complying with anything I would ask, I needed to, in way, gain her trust and thus allegiance. Well, she agreed to it…probably because she hated you for taking away her business in the first place last September. Or, because she is a meager fool…much like yourself, Eleanor."

Although any woman would be quacking in their boots (or rather heels) right now, Nellie was not. She wasn't any ordinary petty woman; of course not−just look at what her job entailed. Nellie Lovett was insulted.

"I am no _fool_, Wickham!" She drew her hands to her hips and raised her chin. He continued:

"You _are_. And that's what I counted on. I had to put faith in the fact that you would continue on yours and Mooney's trivial rivalry and strive to be the best pie maker in London again. And you did just that. It was a long shot considering I didn't know you…but, it all worked out in the end. Luckily to, or my plans would not have worked and I my schedule would be put back even farther than it already is now," Wickham spat as he chuckled a bit more. Nellie, on the other hand, let her hands fall and allowed her gaze to be even more confused than before.

_Schedule_…?

"And what exactly is it ya plan on doin' now that you're apparently _behind_ schedule?"

Wickham started to laugh menacingly again as he threw his head back to personify said laugh. After much too long for Nellie's taste, he finally subsided and peered into her eyes−that glint never once wavering. He continued:

"Now now, Eleanor. Mustn't be too hasty. I am not through explaining myself. All in good time, my dear."

Nellie was fuming now although she shouldn't be considering the dooming predicament she was instinctually sure she was in. She absolutely abhorred being belittled and scorned. Of course she could take it from a barber (mostly because she would dish it back out to him), but most certainly not from this man−the man that she _thought_ she adored and _thought_ was the epitome of the last gentleman left in this gruesome world. Was she wrong? He continued:

"You see, Eleanor darling, I've done this all before now. Yes. I would consider this my hobby…No! More of my career choice," Wickham started his malevolent laugh again.

"Get ta the bloody point!" Nellie, already hacked off at what appears to be her most dire deadlock, was currently raging (well, as much as her calm demeanor could allow the petite woman). He laughed some more. He continued:

"Like I said, I have done this all before and know exactly how easily women, such as yourself, fall to their petty romantic desires! And then become so shrouded by that that they lose all sense of the world around them!"

Nellie gripped the cleaver that she just now noticed as her hands had aimlessly wandered behind her back. She held it flush up against her back, waiting for the precise moment to pounce. He continued:

"Oh! I am going to _kill_ you, Eleanor Lovett…..but I think you deserve the right to know why."

_I told ya so, Lovett…_

"W-w-w-wh…"

"Yes. Shocking? Isn't it? Well, of course to you, darling, it would be. Rather ingenious on my part if I do say so myself." He took another step closer and clicked his boots again…which started to annoy Nellie. She was no longer as scared as she was before (just a bit now). No. She was angry. He continued:

"You see, I do this for a friend−I charm my way into a woman's life, romance her, even love her…and just when she thinks she has it all, that all her dreams are finally becoming reality…I kill her." He paused and soaked in Nellie's face. She was indifferent right now, but probably only due to shock at finally knowing the truth.

"And _why_ do you kill her?" Nellie inhaled then exhaled very deeply, "_Why_ are you going to kill me?"

"Everyone has their fetishes, Eleanor. And this just happens to be my own," Wickham chortled a bit and then drew his eyes to cast a glance around the bake house. Nellie cut him off as he was about to continue:

"And whose ya friend?" She spat. In truth, she felt and feared as though she knew the inevitable, malignant answer. He continued:

"Why, my old pal, the great and honorable Judge Turpin, of course! The very same man that you had unintentionally slighted a few months ago at dinner," he grinned. "You see, you, Eleanor Lovett, refused him not _once_…but _twice_. Turpin doesn't take too lightly to that, my dear. In fact, he mentioned to me when he hired me for this job that if he can't have you, then no one will…even if that means he would rather see you in the grave instead of some other man's arms. I agreed to his task of course. Taking lives of innocent women really does me the greatest of all pleasures. Hahaha," he started to laugh again and even some tears poured from his eyes. "Do pardon me, I get carried away when I think of murder…I'm sure you wouldn't understand."

Nellie, on the other hand, snorted at his last remark. She bloody well understood murder! They were in the bake house of all places, too! The irony…if only he knew…if only he knew.

Then, Nellie had a marvelous thought…thanks to thinking about murder and Wickham's ignorance as to what really went on at 186. She still had her cleaver tucked gently behind her back.

She threw it at him as hard as she could.

_Fuck!_

John Wickham had somehow agilely caught it by the handle.

"Really? You thought that I wouldn't be expecting that, Eleanor? Ha!" And he threw it back at her to just graze by her left cheek. The cleaver landed with a CLANK in front of the grinder. The blood started to flow like tears down Nellie's cheek. For some reason, she thought of Mr. Todd…seeing as though they now both had a cleaver cut on their cheeks. Wait a minute….Mr. Todd!

"Ya know, Wickham," Nellie spat as she balled her hands into fists, refusing to bring a hand to her bloodied cheek so he wouldn't gain any sick satisfaction. "I could just scream for help…and Mr. Todd will be down here in no time at all." She grinned in triumph. But Wickham didn't falter as she expected him to. He continued:

"You could do that. But the moment you yell at all, I will take that as the precise moment to end your life. By calling for help, you are actually accepting your fate much sooner than I had planned…but it's all the same to me. Which then of course, draws back to another matter. It is now time to tell you why I am behind schedule:

"You see, my dear, I had intended to kill you when we went away to Brighton last week. And in fact, today would have been the day I would have killed you there…so that's why I am so keen on killing you today. It doesn't matter to me where…just so as long as I do. I merely chose Brighton as the ideal place to kill you because it is rather the unruly, dangerous, capricious, party-hard town that many people go amiss. It would have been the perfect cover, my dear. But alas, some meddlesome and overly jealous barber forbade you from going…or at least that's what it seemed when he told me you wouldn't be going. And that is the reason I am behind schedule, my dear Eleanor."

He paused to catch his breath. Nellie gave him the darkest and most abhorrent look she could. However, it was always defeated and resorted to a look of despair…so, being by the sea again was just another falsehood and ploy…she could have cried. But considering her current predicament, she held back her tears. And then, she realized she would also be crying for a different reason. And thus, she quickly pulled those thoughts to the back of her mind. He continued:

"And, I was also going to bring my friend along as well, just so he could marvel over his revenge on your death. It would quite comedic, don't you think?" Wickham laughed again.

Then, Wickham finally brought forth his hands from behind his back. And in his left, he was holding a rather shiny and slender object:

Sweeney Todd's missing razor…

"Where'd ya get that!?" Nellie exasperated as she finally drew her hands to her face in shock (and to finally wipe away the blood that was spilling way too much down her bodice…much too irritant-like). He continued:

"You see, my dear, after all those dates we had, when I walked you home and then left at a kiss good night, I actually waited at the corner of Fleet Street, just out of eye's reach to where I could see your house, but, it couldn't see me. Thus, I was able to deduce when Mr. Todd came flocking down his barbershop stairs and then through your pie shop and probably into your room. Yes. I am no moron, my dear. I was well aware of the fact Mr. Todd was very protective…and maybe even obsessive of you….a play the part of the fool rather well, do I not? And not once did I hear a click or a rambling of keys that would indicate he locked his shop."

Nellie's blood (well, what wasn't flowing out of her cheek) was brought to a boil once again! He continued:

"However, I had to wait each time for the first month we…courted…just to ensure his habits were pristine. Then, one night, after Mr. Todd had come down, I took the chance to see if he truly was daft enough to leave his shop unlocked. And guess what, my dear: he sure as hell did! Once securely inside, I took one of his razors and then waited for this day. This day…the day that you die." He continued:

"I find it rather…let's say…appropriate for you to die by your lover's blade, don't you, Eleanor? And yes, I can see it in your eyes that you love him and not me. I have done this many a times to know when a woman has fallen for me…and which I may add that all save you have glistened their eyes with adoring love and affection for me, John Wickham. You, of course, are different, my dear. And because of that love for your barber, you shall die by his…in a way…hand and not my own. Yes appropriate indeed." He continued:

"And now, what we have all been waiting for: your death, Eleanor Lovett," Wickham took one step closer but stopped after that one step to clink his boots. It appeared as though he just remember something. He continued:

"Ah! Forgive me, my dear, but I forgot to tell you just how I am going to kill you. You see, I can't have the whole of London knowing I am a murderer…that would just ruin the whole fun of it. So, I am going to make your death look like an accident…or more of a suicide attempt."

"And how so?" Nellie spat as she stepped forward.

"After I kill you with the razor, either by slitting your throat or stabbing you in the heart, I will then drag your body through the sewers that your bake house is sitting on. How prodigious for me, actually. I suspect that they will lead out into the River Thames as all the sewers in London do. I will then dispose of your corpse into the river. Then, when the bobbies do their routine inspection and discover your mangled body, Judge Turpin and the law will then step in and denounce it as a suicide attempt under the pretense of drowning…as it happens all the time anyway. Ingenious, if I do say so myself, and I do, my dear."

"Or, I could do the same to you."

_He_ drew _his_ razor across John Wickham's throat…

The body of Mr. Wickham started to go limp and fell slightly to the cold, hard bake house floor to reveal _him_ with a bloodied razor in _his_ left hand and the other keeping the body from totally submerging to the ground…

"Nellie…go upstairs and I'll be there shortly…" Sweeney Todd coolly responded.

She nodded rather submissively and tearfully as she strode past Sweeney and up the stairs to her shop front…she left the door open though…

Sweeney looked around the bake house to merely take in his surroundings, more out of habit than of anything. He threw Wickham's body across the floor and then waltzed over to it.

Wickham was still alive…just as Sweeney had meant for him to be when he _lightly_ and _un-lethally_ dragged his razor across Wickham's ungrateful throat.

"I understand much too much of what you were saying about the pleasures of being a murderer, _Mr._ Wickham. And now let me show how much _pleasure_ your death will bring me…"

* * *

Yay! I finally finished this chapter! Damn! It was really hard to write this one...that's why it's been a while since I updated...but I do hope all you Wickham haters are satsfied with death...and man, just imagine how horendous it will be since Sweeney is the one doing it! ^_^

And thank you all for your continious reviews!


	13. The Return to Normality

Chapter 13: The Return to Normality

She heard it…

Blood being splurged from a soon-to-be corpse (assuming he was still alive through the apparent torture) and then splattering itself throughout the bake house walls and floors; human flesh being torn every which way; the man she was so smitten with gurgling and convulsing in his own desolate blood as his screams of absolute, gut-wrenching agony were futile and he drowned in his own blood…

Blood…

She could hear it. She could smell it. And she could have sworn she could see it…

Yet, she did not care one bit. Or did she?

Nellie stood just outside the iron-wrought bake house door. She had her head lolling down, eyes were shut closed, fists clenched. She was trying to be pleased with John Wickham's brutal and barbaric death that he deserved; or indifferent to it at least…but Nellie was desperately losing that inner battle.

Then, she heard metal clanking against stone. Immediately, she bolted up the stairs and into her pie shop: she instantly took a seat at the booth, putting on the pretense of having been sitting there all along.

She stared out the window and into the dark night forlornly with her hand propping her chin up. She could have sworn from out of the corner of her eye, she saw something black, white, and red zoom into her parlour. She brushed it off and sat there in a deadly silence.

Five endless minutes seemed to drawl on before Sweeney Todd stood in the doorway to the shop from her parlour. He stared at Nellie until she finally turned to face him.

Mrs. Lovett stared deeply into his eyes−something was off: shouldn't his eyes still be shrouded in a hazy cloud of blood lust, carnage, and whatever the hell he did down there in the bake house? No. Mr. Todd's eyes seemed…_hurt_? _Pained_? Yes; that was the only way she could describe it. But _why_?

Sweeney Todd knew why−and he would never tell her the real reason. No. It was not guilt, of course: oh how he had longed to slit _that_ man's throat for ages. No; nothing of the sorts. It was the fact that she could have _died_ tonight−and all would have been directly beneath him, practically on his watch. So it was guilt then. Guilt that he had only _so-happened_ to have come downstairs to sneak some of the "hands-off" rum back upstairs; and then he so-_happened_ to hear voices and decided to let his curiosity−and even boredom−get the better of him.

"Come here," he reluctantly broke the deadly silence as he gestured for Nellie to walk towards him.

"Why?" She dryly responded.

"I need to dress your wounds, don't I?" Sweeney walked towards Nellie and offered her his hand. She obliged but diverted her gaze for a dawning fear of starting to cry. She knew she shouldn't cry over the man who was so keen on murdering her, but, she felt as though she just had to for reasons unknown. Sweeney propped her up on the counter and went to the sink to get a wet rag. Nellie drooped her head, clasping her hands in her lap, watching as her feet dangled in the air. She felt a hand on her right cheek that drew her head to face his as his other hand, clad with the now wet rag, gently began dabbing at the cleaver wound on her left cheek.

He kept his gaze fixated on cleaning her cut, attempting to replace his dreaded look with his usual demon façade. He knew he was failing, though. The tension in the pie shop was now killing him as well. He never expected Mrs. Lovett to start a conversation this time, however; yet, he still hoped for it at the same time. Sweeney did know of one way to possibly lighten her now depressed demeanor. After he had finished cleaning the blood (most of which had dried by now as the cut had stopped bleeding) from her cheek and down her neck, he placed it on her chest and withdrew his hand. There was crusted blood in her dress now and decided to be gentleman-like and not clean it.

"You can do the rest," Sweeney stated in his best "tying-to-be-funny" voice he could muster as he motioned with his hand at her chest (nearly touching it). "Or I can."

"Turn around….pig."

After Nellie had finished ridding the blood imbedded in her cleavage, she spoke up timidly:

"Will ya come with me on a walk please, Mr. T?" She desperately desired to put as much distance as she could between herself and the bake house. She knew that was near impossible considering she lived at 186, but a walk was in order for at least tonight.

"Of course."

The murderer and his accomplice; barber and his baker; Sweeney Todd and his Nellie Lovett walked until they had unintentionally reached Hyde Park. They had made the journey in a complete morbid silence, Nellie with arms huddling herself for warmth and Sweeney with his hands in his pockets. At one point on their trek, right when they got out of the pie shop, he had made to either put his arm around her waist or loop his arm with hers, but she quickly assumed her current position and remained that way for the rest of the walk.

_What's wrong with her? _

Nellie led the way to a clear patch of grass in the middle of the park and instantly plopped herself in the smooth terrain. She let herself fall backwards to gaze into the starry night. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Sweeney followed suit and laid down on her left.

For a major part of the following hour, Nellie and Sweeney laid in silence and merely stared into the night sky. The moon shined bright, illuminating the park and let rays of luminescent light scatter onto the pair. Occasionally, Sweeney would stir and look at Nellie to see if she was nodding off or willing to talk; however, she remained stationary and continued to look into the sky with a rather pained expression etched onto her features. Sweeney took notice at the gash on her cheek since it was practically glowing thanks to the moon against her pale face.

"We match."

Mrs. Lovett knit her brows and mustered the biggest confused frown she could as she sat up to look down at Mr. Todd.

"W-w-what?"

He sat up himself into a cross-legged position and then trailed a finger over her cut and then the one she had given him a few days ago.

"Oh," was her sole response as she fell back onto the grass and drew an arm over her eyes. He heard her vain attempt to muffle a sniffle.

_Dammit_…He shouldn't have said that. He should _not_ have said that. He _really_ should not have. He could somehow sense that being reminded of her cut that she was now being flooded with prior, ghastly events from the bake house.

"I'm sorry," he spoke.

"S'not ya fault, love," she stuttered as she tried to keep tears from flowing past her arm over her eyes. She didn't want Mr. Todd to see her cry…to see her cry over fucking Wickham!

Sweeney decided to let the silence fester around them; believing that to be the only thing capable of soothing the tension that loomed in the air between them. A thought struck Sweeney then: was she truly distraught about Wickham's death? Was she mad at _him_ for killing the bastard? No. But what else could possibly be the reason for her tears. He had to ask:

"You weren't really in love with him…were you?"

Mrs. Lovett bolted upright and looked Mr. Todd square in the face with her bloodshot eyes and tears trickling down her cheeks.

"No!" She yelled at him as she started to sob fervently.

"Then why are you crying over the man who tried to kill you, Mrs. Lovett?"

"Ya don't understand," she put her arm back up to cover her eyes as she sat on her knees in front of Sweeney.

"Understand what? You obviously loved him, right? And now are mourning his death even though he was going to kill you," he spat with much contempt.

"No! S'not that! It's the fact that I was so…so…so _blind_. And then betrayed! Betrayed by some I trusted so dearly…someone I _thought_ I loved!" Nellie spoke so quickly she didn't even think nor register what she was saying and to who she was saying it to.

"So you did love him then." Sweeney turned his head away from her and fell back to the ground to look at the stars yet again. Nellie laid back too and then put her hand in his and squeezed it tight. He didn't retract like she thought he would have.

"No. No I didn't. Or at least nothing romantic…just a real fondness for a close friend and such…love but not love. And nothing as remotely as close as I feel for….'e was jus' a friend…a friend that betrayed me and stabbed me in me 'eart….'e almost _did_, too," she chuckled a bit at that last part as her crying began to subside. Sweeney didn't respond.

The two simply laid there for another good while. It would be entirely inaccurate to say they laid in silence like before because Nellie had regained her chatty demeanor. Every minute she would sporadically remove her hand from Sweeney's and point to some star or other in the night and go off on some tangent about what it reminded her of or merely to point at, saying she "liked" it; she would then place her hand back in his, but only until another star caught her eye. Sweeney occasionally commented on her comments with those one-word responses that normally would have ticked her off but she was happy nonetheless having him in her company. A half-hour passed whilst Nellie's outbursts became less frequent, as Sweeney took notice. He glanced over at her to discover her yawning, eyelids becoming heavier and heavier. He sighed and then got up.

"Again? What's with this blasted park having me carry you home every time we come here?" He snarled.

"If it bothers ya so much, I can walk, ya know," Mrs. Lovett jeered as she started to lift herself to her feet.

"I thought you were already asleep," he mumbled.

"Speak up, dearie−I can't bloody well understand ya when ya mutter to yaself like that," she ridiculed him as Mr. Todd roughly scooped her up in his arms. When they were traversing the darkened, gloomy streets of London back to 186, Nellie had a thought…well, she was always pondering away at whatever she only knew what, but this time about, she had a rather peculiar one−why was Sweeney Todd being so…what was the word?..._nice_…to her? That paved way for another−why was Sweeney Todd being apparently…_wary_…of her being?

"Mr. T? Can ask ya sumthin'?" They rounded a corner onto Fleet Street.

"No."

"Why are ya being so protective of me? I mean, ya killed Mr. Wickham and all. But why?"

"You were in danger. So I helped you." Sweeney sounded offended as he kicked open the door to her pie shop.

"But it jus' ain't like ya. I means, I thought ya loved Lucy and all," she turned away from him, now remembering she was stepping onto thin ice.

"I do. But that's just it," he dropped her on her bed rather roughly, on purpose, as he turned around to close the door to her bedroom. "I wasn't there to protect her….but I'm here now: and I'll protect you instead."

Nellie's heart was swooning…but only for a millisecond. Sure, the man she loved had indirectly promised to keep her safe, but he was only doing it out of guilt for not being able to protect his "late" wife. She let her head fall on her pillow.

Sweeney extinguished the light from the lamps in her room and got into bed beside her. He drew the comforter over her small frame to tuck her in whilst he remained on top of it.

"Night, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney sighed, making sure he left out the "good" in that common phrase when one bids someone to bed considering the night's events.

"Benjamin was protective o' Lucy." _I do believe I have just received my answer to my question: she truly _never_ shuts up…_

"Of course he was."

"And he loved Lucy."

"Always."

"And Sweeney Todd is protective of Eleanor Lovett?" She drawled on as she looked out of the corner of her eye to look at him.

"Apparently so." He knew where this was going_. It's a trap_...

"Does that mean…" Nellie felt cool and chapped lips against hers again. It didn't last long, but it inhibited her from continuing…just as Sweeney counted on.

"Go to sleep, Nellie." He evaded the trap. Yet, she still remained ever so intent on talking:

"I 'spose things'll go back ta normal now, right Mr. T?"

"Of course."

"As normal as it can be, for two people who bake 'uman flesh in ta ruddy ol' 'meat' pies, eh?"

He snorted a bit: "Anything you say."

And things did just that…

Well, like Mrs. Lovett said, as "normal"−not to mention "respectable"−as it could ever inevitably be…

That following day, after that dreadful event in the bake house, Sweeney and Nellie decided it was best to forget and keep moving on, never once looking back on all that had transpired with John Wickham. _You've got to put your past behind you_…he had said to her. _Oh that's rich, comin' from you, Sweeney Todd_…she had scoffed at him. _Do as I say, not as I do, bloody woman_…

That was nearly three days ago…

Business was bustling of course: for both the barber and the baker; and good thing too−it prevented either of them from dwelling on the past, for both of them: Nellie not having time, patience, or energy to think about Wickham; and Sweeney not having _much_ time to think about Lucy and Johanna….but always time for revenge.

"Mista T? I brought ya your laundry, sir."

Tobias…he had nearly forgotten the boy…or at least for a good _two_ days after Wickham's demise. The boy had questioned Mrs. Lovett on whether she was seeing the man still, noticing he wasn't around anymore. She replied he had "dumped her and moved outta the country." Brilliant thinking on her part, Sweeney had mused to himself and merely regretted his compliment since she was always thinking brilliantly-like. Luckily, Toby had seemed to suffice for that tidbit of information. Mrs. Lovett had always thought the boy to be much brighter than most boys his age and deemed his gullibility as a complete surprise, but shrugged it off nonetheless. Mr. Todd, however, seemed to think Toby believed Sweeney to have gotten rid of him…like he always said he would. But the boy knew his place and thus never brought the question forward to him.

"Set it on the chest, boy."

"So, since Mr. Wickham is…_no longer with us_," Toby looked up at Mr. Todd who was peering down at the lad intently. "Things'll go back ta normal between us, right, sir?"

Sweeney snorted as he folded his arms across his chest: "Of course."

Toby nodded as he smiled: "I hate ya, _sir_."

"As do I, _boy_. Now get out."

Toby trolled down the fleet of stairs and into the pie shop. The lunch rush had just ended, leaving the boy to tidy up whilst Mrs. Lovett was doing some household chores. Toby grabbed a broom to initiate his task of sweeping up the crumbs off the floor and then out into the street. _Swoosh_. _Swoosh_. The crumbs, now accompanied by mounds of dust, scooted along the floor. _Ding_. Toby opened the door. _Swoosh_. _Swoosh_.

"BLEH!"

"'M'so sorry, sir! I was jus' sweepin' an'…Oh! I do beg ya pardon, Mista Beadle, sir!"

"You'd best be, boy. And good thing you are not my child…for if you were, I'd say a good lashing would be in order for that," Beadle Bamford spat at poor Toby, who was merely trying to sweep and accidently swooped the crumbs and dust into the Beadle's face, not realizing someone was entering the closed pie shop.

"I am here on business, boy. I'd much appreciate it if you showed me to your mistress, Mrs. Lovett; if you'd be so kind," Bamford smiled that greasy, evil grin at Toby as he clasped his hands tighter around his cane.

"Yes, sir. Wait 'ere. I'll go fetch'er fer ya."

Toby took a glance up at the rat of a man quickly, and then took off at a steady pace into the parlour. He darted down the hall and into the room where Mrs. Lovett washed their clothes.

"Mum, the Beadle is 'ere to see ya: 'e's in the shop waiting fer ya."

Mrs. Lovett dropped the dress she was scrubbing back into the wash tub. 'Ave we been finally figured out. She teased herself as she continued washing her dress. Please…they were far too discreet for even that of the Beadle, or even all of Scotland Yard for that matter. She tusked: _Wickham…that's why the ol' codger is 'ere o' course. Much later than expected, though…_

"Alright, love. But I need ya ta send Mr. Todd downstairs fer me, lad."

"But why, mum? The Beadle only wants ta talk with you."

"Toby! Just send 'im down please!"

"Fine," Toby huffed.

Mrs. Lovett patted her hands dry on her dress as she meandered back into her pie shop to face the Beadle Bamford.

_If we can't convince 'im fer a "shave," then we'd better make this bloody convincing…_

"Mr. Todd, sir?"

Sweeney was brandishing one of his more used razors as he sat in his chair, where he was most always found be either the boy or the baker.

"What?" He grunted, obviously annoyed by the boy's sudden reappearance, already having being in there nearly seven minutes prior.

"Mrs. Lovett wants ta see ya, sir."

"And why exactly is it that she can't come up here herself?"

"I don't know why, sir. Maybe 'cause she's a bit preoccupied with the Beadle and all in 'er shop bel…"

"The Beadle?!" Mr. Todd perked up and actually set his gaze upon the boy.

"Yes, sir. She wants ya downstairs I s'pose fer some reason or other."

Sweeney got up, hooking his razor back into its holster. He faced Toby as he came to tower over the lad.

"Boy: you are to go out and do whatever the hell your petty, little heart desires. Just stay the ruddy hell away from here for the next hour."

_If the Beadle is here on business regarding...the menu…he'll surely be added to it…_

"Why?"

"Do as I say, boy! Or I'll be more than happy to make you regret it." Sweeney dug his hand into his pocket to pull out a ten pound note and shoved it into Toby's hand. "Buy what you want with this and keep out of here for an hour. Now go!"

Tobias Ragg gleamed with the outermost joy: he had never received that much money! Let alone just being able to hold it for a while! He decided to listen to the barber and even chose to look over why it was so imperative for the boy to be gone for that long…

"Oh! Beadle Bamford! What a pleasant surprise! And what exactly is it that brings ya 'ere ta my fine establishment?" Mrs. Lovett beamed when she spotted that lard of a man perched at the booth.

"Ah, Mrs. Lovett! A surprise indeed. I'm here on business I'm afraid, madam. You see, I don't know if you've heard, but it seems Mr. John Wickham has gone missing, my dear lady. I came by to enqui…."

"Why, Beadle Bamford; an honor it is to be having _you_ tonight, sir," Sweeney jeered slightly at the double meaning in his statement as he strode in through the side door and went to stand behind the counter next to Mrs. Lovett.

"Oh, Mr. Todd; yes, yes, yes: an honor indeed it is. But I am really only here to discuss pressing matters with your landlady, not yourself. So if you don't mind…"

"Being a tenant, I believe I have every right to know what is going on around these premises."

"Very well. Perhaps you may know, too." The Beadle was actually pleased beyond compare to have Mr. Sweeney Todd coincidently come downstairs…he was just too vain to admit it.

During the conversation between Bamford and Todd, Mrs. Lovett managed to steal a glance towards Sweeney and gave him a wink, to which he subtly nodded in acknowledgement, before she suddenly broke out into frenzied sobs.

"Why! What's going on!?" The Beadle stammered as he and Sweeney turned to Mrs. Lovett who held her head in her hands. Sweeney walked over to her, suppressing a laugh, to place a hand on her shoulder.

"She gets like this whenever she is reminded of…_Wickham_," he mouthed the dead man's name to which the Beadle nodded in surprise.

"I-I-I'm s-s-sorry, s-sir," Mrs. Lovett stuttered as she wiped away tears. "It's jus'…we was so…c-c-close! And then….'e g-g-goes on an' leaves me! An' without word, too!"

The Beadle merely stood with his jaw gaping.

"He's gone?" He exasperated.

"Shhh, my love. There, there," Sweeney cooed a little with too much glee and most of all, insincerity and suppressed laughter that caused his voice to jump an octave too high, as he patted her back.

"It's jus': 'ow can 'e do this ta me! 'E goes on and says 'e's with another woman already that 'e met in Brighton and decided ta leave England and 'ead ta America with…_her_! Told me 'e wasn't gonna tell no one 'bout where 'e was going once they got there…'e wanted it ta be a secret to all 'is friends and business partners: but jus' 'ad ta tell me! God, I'm _so_ distraught! Didn't even tell me ta me face! Wrote it in a bloody letter instead! _God_!"

Mrs. Lovett ran from the room into her back parlour with a slamming of the door to intensify the drama. Once there, she ran to her room and burst into tears….tears of laughter and overconfidence for having masked the perfect performance if she did say so herself. And she did.

_Now, make sure 'e buys it, Mr. T…_

"So John Wickham left the country?" Beadle Bamford was shocked. _I knew the bloody man didn't have it in him…_but apparently not surprised. _Damn womanizer…_

"Yes, sir. I'm sure you have heard of the gossip of Eleanor Lovett and John Wickham's courtship these past few months?"

"As did the rest of London, of course."

"Well, three days ago, he came here and dropped her off this letter," Sweeney pulled a letter out of his pocket. A letter that he had easily forged…

The Beadle quickly scanned the letter, fully taking into the "fact" that it was John Wickham's script. _What an idiot_…Sweeney thought as he saw Bamford's face contort into an understanding expression.

"This is _very_ unfortunate, Mr. Todd." _Judge Turpin will be very displeased…no wonder Wickham fled England_…he thought as he handed the letter back to Sweeney.

"Indeed." He folded it back into his pocket for safe keeping in case they needed it again…or to burn it later.

"Well then, Mr. Todd, my business here is concluded. Although I may be back before the month is out…there have been many complaints made about Mrs. Lovett's pie shop that may call for investigation on my part. But only if the complaints are more frequent. Good day to you, sir." Beadle Bamford flashed that greasy smirk as he tipped his top hat and left the shop with a ding.

"Well, I told ya me plan would work, didn't I Mr. T?" Mrs. Lovett chided as she waltzed back into her shop. "And what a marvelous performance on _my_ part: don't'cha think?" She winked.

"Yes, yes: you're bloody brilliant, woman. But if you didn't have _me_, this never would have played out so nicely. Don't you forget that!" Sweeney smirked, knowing full well she had every bragging right but never going to let her know that.

"O' course I am! Or we wouldn't be 'ere now."

About two days ago, the day directly after Wickham's…less than humane…demise, Mrs. Lovett realized that since Wickham being so closely associated with Judge Turpin, the law would surely come knocking at 186. Thus, a plan was in action. She concocted a scheme that if the Beadle or any other official would come poking around for John Wickham, she would make it come off as he left her or whatever. Most of her performance today was total improvisation, but she knew it would work if she played the part right, which she did. She even went as far as to provide a "legal documentation" or "evidence" of Wickham's departure. If they could keep mass murder and cannibalism a secret to all of London, surely lying about one man to the law was simple enough…

"That's nice. I got work. So do you so hop to it, woman."

* * *

Well, hey! It's been a while right? Well, far too long anyway I'm sure. Is this clear? Cause I have been writing bits and bits every day for nearly two weeks now so I don't know if it's coherent. Oh...and is their plan plausible? Oh well, if not, for the sake of the story, the Beadle and Judge do not press any further investigation and believe it...they are, in my opinion, idiots. Thank so much to all for reviewing! All love having my phone go off with every review I get! I don't know why it's such a good feeling! Oh! And since these last two chapters took much longer to roll out then all the previous ones, do check my profile bio for information as to why it may take updating so long...it'll be like a sort of check in so you all know when to expect an update...if you guys care or anything. Kay, I am done now. I always forget what I am going to say in these A/N's so fuck it...bye.


	14. A Jealous Promise

Chapter 14: A Jealous Promise

"Good morning, love!" Mrs. Lovett jeered as she strolled into Mr. Todd's barber shop (as always) to bring him his daily dose of a lovely porridge for breakfast. She looked around the darkened shop to find said "love" to only find him as stationary as ever at his dreary window still. She signed inwardly (as always when she saw him as he was) as she placed the tray of his food onto the flat surface of his armoire and began taking the bowl, utensils, and napkin on it. She glanced at Mr. Todd, who still was not acknowledging her presence (as always).

Or so she thought…

"Well, s'pose I'll go get ready for the lunch rush and see to them pies and all," Nellie turned on her heels to leave.

"Mrs. Lovett."

She let go of the knob to glance over her shoulder at him: "Yes, Mr. T?"

Mr. Todd had apparently moved from his iconic standstill and now stood at the back of his barber's chair, a few feet away from Nellie.

"And how are you doing this morning, Mrs. Lovett?"

Nellie was aghast: what the bloody hell was with this bastard now? If not this, than that: and if not that, than this: if not in a rage, then kind? And Sweeney Todd was _not_ the one to initiate small talk…and since when did he care how she, Eleanor Lovett, was? _Never−that's a right good laugh, that is. _

"Fine…" she nearly gasped or stuttered, depending on how you interpret it. Nellie turned to leave again, brushing off his erratic behavior/comment altogether.

"Aren't _you_ going to reciprocate my question, my dear?"

"And 'ow are _you_, Mr. Todd?"

"Well. Thanks for asking. In fact, _very_ well, I might add."

_Wait, _she realized, _he wants something…_

Sweeney decided to take Nellie's "very rare silence" to his advantage and now stood all but a foot in front of her, towering (well, not really) over her petite frame. Nellie instantly came to her senses and gazed up at him−_him_ obviously adorning a smug face and all too sly grin.

"Alright−what ya want?"

"And what makes you think _I_ want anything at all, pet?" She could just hear the feigned sincerity and apparent sarcasm in his voice.

"Pish posh. I think we know each other well enough now, Mr. T. 'Sides, you's bein' awfully nice ta me…that would be a dead ringer, love," she retorted.

Sweeney seemed taken aback: obviously he did not have the upper hand nor advantage he thought he withheld with Nellie…_damn practicality and intelligence. _He motioned his hand to the middle of his shop, beckoning her to take a seat in his barber's chair.

"We have much to discuss, Mrs. Lovett."

Nellie, however, did not move; she placated her hands on her hips rather.

"And what's there to…_discuss_? Last I recall, these past few days 'ave been real bland−not much ta talk 'bout there."

Sweeney moved to stand behind the chair and patted the back of the chair with both his hands in a sort of motioning gesture.

"Sit."

Nellie merely narrowed her eyes and thinned her lips into a slightly menacing, slightly mocking smirk.

"Mercy no! Not in that damn chair−not after the ordeal ya put me through last time I sat in it."

Sweeney mocked her look.

"Last I recall, you rather enjoyed it."

She quickly fumed into the shop and begrudgingly sat down in his chair with an immense pout on her face. Sweeney began fiddling with her hair with both his hands.

"Wot? Ya gonna style my 'air? Is that what ya wanna discuss? That my 'air isn't to your liking?"

"Nellie…Shut. Up."

And just for precautions and to ensure the baker could not talk, Sweeney titled her head upwards by her chin and kissed her smack on the lips. It was indeed awkward, seeing as though he still remained positioned behind the chair as she sat in it unmoving, and one could say he was kissing her upside down…not as though either of the two cared. Mr. Todd let his hand fall from her chin to wander downwards and merely let it stay on her right side of her bodice.

"That's not much of a discussion, love." Nellie was smirking as their kiss ended.

"The discussion is just beginning…so be quiet," he snarled into her ear as he slouched over a bit, keeping now both arms draping over her shoulders and resting on her outstretched arms that were on the chair's arms.

"I might."

He ignored her.

"I want you to make me a promise, Nellie Lovett," he whispered whilst he kept his mouth at her right ear.

"Perhaps…" She teased.

"Promise me this…

_Never see another man again…_"

"Oh Mr. T…"

"Promise…or I'll just kill you here."

Nellie laughed.

"Now now, Mr. Todd: calm down. And _whatever_ makes ya wantin' that sort o' thing? Hmm?" Oh, she knew! She knew damn well about his feelings (would you really call it feelings?) about the bastard John Wickham. _Now let's screw with 'im…_

"We aren't…._jealous_ now, are we, Mr. T?" She pressed as she turned to face him. Nellie smirked.

Clearly, Sweeney Todd was not amused. He instantly right himself and removed his arms from hers.

"Never."

Nellie got up and faced him; the chair remaining exactly between them. In fact, Sweeney was standing just were the door gave way if one were to press on the lever.

Nellie moved to the left of the chair, Sweeney remaining unfazed as they stared another down. He did not move an inch as Nellie crept closer to a certain pedal that connected to the death throne…

She positioned her boot just over said pedal, hands on her hips, eyeing Sweeney Todd down.

"Admit you _were_…and clearly still _are_…jealous of me with another man, Sweeney Todd…."

"Or?"

"_Or_…" She glanced downwards, causing him to do the same. He noted the pedal, and where he stood.

"Just because I fell threw it once, doesn't mean it'll happen again, my pet."

"That don't sound like an admittance, Mr. Todd….or perhaps you really would like ta fall down the chute a second ti−"

And in that delayed instant that Nellie decided to drone on and deride Mr. Todd, Sweeney darted forwards, around the chair, and scooped Mrs. Lovett off her feet into another waltz…only this time, around Mr. Todd's Tonsorial Parlour.

"It seems to me that you have forgotten your practicality, my dear." Sweeney said as he looked Nellie in the eyes, one arm around her waist and the other enclosing one of her hands. "Now promise me."

"Admit you are jealous and I shall." She smiled.

He considered it…but decided to remain silent. He, Sweeney Todd, will never, ever admit that to Eleanor Lovett…not even a promise was worth his pride. Besides, he highly doubted she would be with another man after all that had transpired…. he would make sure of that.

"I can tell, ya know. And I also know jus' 'ow bloody proud of a bastard ya are that you'd rather give me the silent treatment than admit anything….even though ya clearly are," she teased.

_Damn woman…_

His sole response was to keep her quiet, which the only way how was to kiss her…and to make sure he kissed her long and hard enough to make her forget all her wit and clever comebacks.

_That shall be easy… _

And their waltz continued for nearly another hour (along with many kisses whenever Nellie tried to speak); however, this story is now finished!

_**Fin**_

* * *

Well, there ya have it! This story is now done! Hope you all enjoyed!

Thanks so much to all of you who reviewed and read!

Any questions, PM or review!

Thank you all again!

I don't really have anything to say so...Bye!


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